A List and Three Black Eyes
by Jantallian
Summary: All it takes to keep the relay station running efficiently and quietly is to follow Slim's list of instructions. What could possibly go wrong? That depends on who's got the list! (J & C AU 1 - Chapter version of previously posted story.)
1. Chapter 1

I've hesitated about uploading this story as it is a bit of a linguistic risk on my part, but it took time to write, so here goes! It comes with a warning: some of the dialogue is in French and Spanish (should be Mexican Spanish, but I'm more familiar with European). Before you curse me or rush to Google Translate, many words are the same in all three language and most of the meaning is reflected in the English that surrounds it. Where this is not so, I've put a translation in the notes at the end of each chapter. But the story can be followed without necessarily translating every word and it might be fun to fill in your own interpretation and then see if you are right.

And why do the characters use three languages? Well, you know what characters are – sometimes they just do what they please! Including ending up with an epilogue I certainly had not planned at the beginning.

In this one, Jess's climbing and rescue techniques have improved a bit from his hair-raising performance in _Two for the Gallows_.

Sign in or email if you'd like a reply to comments. If you're a French or Spanish speaker, idiomatic corrections appreciated by email please.

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 **A List and Three Black Eyes**

Jantallian

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 **Dawn – Day 5**

 **.**

"Jess, are we gonna be killed?"

Jess sat bolt upright in an instant, his gun seeming automatically to leap into his hand of its own accord. At the same time his eyes snapped open, scanning the bunk-room for sinister figures and his ears were straining for the sounds of attack outside in the yard.

It was not the way anyone wanted to be woken in the chilly half-light of pre-dawn.

He could see nothing but a worried looking Andy, leaning against the bunk, clutching an outsize mug of coffee to his heart. Gradually his own heart stopped pounding and the adrenaline-fuelled responses relaxed, as he focused his attention on the boy. He shoved the gun back in the holster hanging from the corner of his bunk.

"Not immediately, Tiger," he responded reassuringly, "or at least, I'm not, but your days might be numbered if you don't hand over that coffee right now!" He didn't say that Andy had been within a hair's breadth of really being shot, but, as the mug was thrust into his hands, added seriously, "You should be careful how you wake a man who sleeps with a gun."

"Sorry, Jess - Slim warned me about that but I forgot."

"It's forgettin' things that get you killed, Tiger," Jess reminded him gently. "Now come on up here and tell me what this is all about."

Andy scrambled up onto the other end of the bunk and Jess tossed him one of his blankets because, despite being fully dressed, Andy was shivering. Jess took an appreciative gulp of the coffee: it was hot, black and so strong it would probably have dissolved metal had anyone been unwise enough to attempt to stir it. He was inwardly much amused that Andy had had the forethought and common sense to take this sensible precaution before waking him up.

"This is real good," he complimented with a smile, "but it don't let you off the penalty for wakin' me up too soon and scarin' me half out my wits!" He looked closely at his young friend and, knowing the Sherman family traits quite well by now, asked "You been up all night worryin', Andy?"

Andy shook his head. "I woke up and my face was sore, so I got up and looked in the mirror."

Jess dumped his empty mug, reached out and turned Andy's face so that the left side was more visible in the dim light. He just restrained himself from swearing aloud. Andy was sporting the makings of a fine black eye, along with a number of sore-looking scratches.

"And then I thought," Andy continued, his voice shaking just a little, "they're due back today and we're gonna get killed!" His face screwed up into a grimace which was a cross between fear and anger.

Jess pulled him into a bear-hug. "I'm gonna get killed, not you," he said in what he hoped were calming tones.

"That's not fair!" Andy protested. "We were in it together."

"Yeah, partner, but I doubt if Slim is gonna see it that way! Besides, he ain't gonna kill you, you're the only brother he's got."

"It's not your fault," Andy protested, "and you're goin' to get all the blame."

This was no more than the truth. Jess said firmly, "It's my responsibility - he left me in charge and to take care of you."

"But you did, Jess, you know you did! It just doesn't look that way."

"Not lookin' at your face, it doesn't," Jess told him with a grin. "Now give over, Tiger. Nothin' ever got solved by worryin' about it – leastways, not until it happens."

"I ain't gonna let Slim kill you!" Andy said vehemently, but despite his bravado, Jess could feel him still shaking.

"Andy, think! Do you really believe Slim has a chance in hell of doin' that?"

Andy considered for a moment and then said worriedly, "I know you can beat him with a gun but – "

"And you really think I'd use a gun on Slim?"

"No, of course not! But if it comes to a fist fight – "

"If it comes to that, I'll just have to take my chance," Jess told him philosophically. "We're usually about even. Besides, you know your brother's got a strong sense of justice - maybe he'll listen."

 _But more than likely he'll just want to beat the tar out of me anyway_ , he thought, quite accurately, as it happened. "Now, since we are up before dawn, maybe we can catch up on yesterday's work!" He swung out of the bunk, reaching absently for the bedraggled shirt in the pile of clothes on the floor as he did so. "How come you're up and dressed so early, anyway?"

"Well, you always say work's a cure for worrying," Andy told him seriously, "so I thought maybe I should make a start on the kitchen –"

"Uh-oh! Bad, is it?" Jess rapidly finished pulling on the rest of his battered-looking clothes.

Andy nodded. "You sure can see what we were doin'. But I did my best."

Jess ruffled his hair affectionately. "I bet you did, partner, but next time you start worryin', you come to me first, without the tidyin'!"

"Sure, but I had to tidy a bit to get the coffee on - and no-one's gonna risk waking you, Jess, without getting the coffee goin' first! Least, not if they want to keep their head on their shoulders."

"I do not tear people's heads off without due warnin'," Jess retorted, "it ain't polite. Now c'm on and help me find that list!"

He hauled Andy unceremoniously off the bunk and gave him a shove in the direction of the living room. When Slim had left four days ago on urgent and complicated business in Cheyenne, taking with him the faithful and reliable influence of Jonesy, who needed treatment for his back again, he had left a comprehensive list of instructions which he expected Jess and Andy to carry out in his absence. Things might have turned out differently if he had also included a list of what they were not to do, such as target shooting, rough riding, racing, sleeping out, going fishing, cliff climbing, fighting and practising alternative medicine, but unfortunately he had omitted this elementary precaution, with the result that he would later be laying into Jess for precisely these activities and more. In all fairness to Jess, however, list or no list, he did not, as the circumstances developed, have very many options in what he actually chose to do. It would be some time before Slim discovered this.

Meanwhile the pair were faced with a living room which looked exactly as one might have expected after Jess had knocked down and ejected the Patterson twins. 'Keep the place tidy,' might have been on Slim's list, but it had got somewhat overlooked in the action. Jess groaned as he surveyed the disarray caused by the struggle. When you were looking for a piece of paper, having crashed into the bookshelves and swept everything off the top of the desk did not create ideal conditions.

"Think, Tiger, what did we do with it?" he pleaded.

Andy was quick to point out that he hadn't done anything with the list. "You screwed it up and threw it away, Jess, when you said we'd earned some fishing."

"I did? Where?"

"Well, I think you were aiming for the fire."

Jess gave another heartfelt groan. "We lit the fire last night!"

"It's a good thing you're such a rotten shot!" Andy pounced triumphantly on a crumpled ball tucked behind the fender.

"You cheeky varmint!" Jess grabbed him in a headlock and proceeded to tickle him. "Give me that!"

"Hush!" Andy reminded him, choking with suppressed laughter. "You'll wake our guests!"

Jess laughed too and let him go. "Let's get on with it then. We'll leave them to sleep in until we've done somethin' about this." He began haphazardly piling books back on to the shelves. Anticipating the probable effect on his elder brother of this cavalier treatment of his beloved library, Andy took the books firmly out of Jess's hands and began restoring them to their proper order. "Honestly, Jess, you don't know one end of the alphabet from the other!"

"You reckon it matters?"

"It matters to Slim!"

"Okay, you fix it then. I'll have a look at the kitchen." As he went out into the little kitchen, Jess gave a further miserable groan. "I thought you said you'd tidied this, Andy?"

"I tidied the coffee pot and the top of the stove, after I got it going."

"Yeah, I can see that. It's the only clean bit." The kitchen appeared to have suffered redecoration using large quantities of a peculiar green sludge with a faintly medicinal smell. A saucepan of this was balanced on the edge of the sink, which was also full of two days' washing up. Jess filled the kettle and slapped it down irritably on the stove, causing water to slop everywhere and a gush of steam to hit him in the face. He swore under his breath. The mere sight of the washing up was getting to him already. He shifted the saucepan of green gunk back on to the stove too, when a thought struck him. "Andy, get in here."

When the boy appeared, Jess seized him by the hair, tilted his head back and applied a generous handful of the mysterious sludge to his cuts and bruises.

"Ow! Jess, what are you doin' that for? That stuff stinks!"

"But it's good for healin', remember? That's why we made it. Anythin' to get you lookin' better before Slim gets home!"

"Yeah!" Andy rubbed the stuff in more enthusiastically. "Bet Jonesy's gonna be mad at you, though - he thinks he's the expert at doctoring around here."

"He is," Jess admitted with feeling. "And who's goin' to need serious doctorin' when he sees the state of his kitchen?" He began to attempt to clear the sink, his impatience resulting in an avalanche of dirty crockery and a broken plate.

Andy sighed and, waving the list under his nose, sternly reprimanded him, "Jess, you just ain't domesticated! Leave it be. I'll do this and you get on with the outside chores. There's enough on this list to keep you occupied for hours."

"You sure, Tiger?"

"Anything's better than Slim docking us for broken crockery," Andy told him firmly.

"I owe you!" Jess gave him an affectionate punch on the arm and headed for the back door.

"In that case," Andy called after him shrewdly, "you're cooking the breakfast!"

An hour or so later, they were sitting side by side at the table, with the remains of a substantial breakfast around them and the list between them. Jess was muttering under his breath and rapidly ticking off tasks. Andy was cleaning one of the hand-guns they'd used for target practice, with the result that liberal amounts of oil were mingling with the breadcrumbs. He looked sideways at the list and said admiringly, "Have you really done all that?"

"I've done it," Jess agreed, "but I ain't sayin' I've done it to perfection. And there's still all this stuff to catch up with." He stared at the list gloomily.

"Well, we did miss nearly a whole day," Andy reminded him, thinking of the events of the previous twenty four hours.

"So, are you goin' to explain why to Slim, or am I?"

"But we've got evidence, haven't we?" Andy pointed to the door of the small guest bedroom.

"That depends on whether he can understand what they're sayin', so we'd better wake them up and make sure they know what they're supposed to be tellin' him!"

"And we'd better offer them some breakfast – I wouldn't agree to anything on an empty stomach," Andy pointed out.

"I'll get some more coffee goin'." Jess began hastily to clear away the debris from their breakfast, while Andy found clean things to re-lay two places at the table. It might have been thought, from their actions, that they were both rather wary of actually knocking on or opening the bedroom door. Eventually, it came to the point when they were definitely looking at each other and hesitating.

"Better be you, Andy – after all, you are the host," Jess told him.

"No, you – you speak the language."

"Only a word or two!"

"Jess, you're trying to duck out of this!"

"Well, if I am, you may recall there's good reason." Jess was thinking back to certain actions of his on the previous night. "It'd better be you – you're smaller and less threatenin'."

Andy also recalled Jess's rather direct way of dealing with certain situations which had arisen. "All right. But you owe me again!" He braced himself, marched over to the door, knocked and, when there was no response, knocked again. He waited and then cautiously opened the door and edged into the room.

A moment later, he flew out again. "Jess! They're gone!"

If it was possible for someone so tanned, it appeared Jess had turned white. "What d'you mean, gone?"

"I mean gone – not there – there's no-one in the room!"

Jess brushed past him and surveyed the empty bedroom. "Oh, no – not again!" he growled in tones of deepest resignation. "And that was our last chance of explainin'."

They stared at each other in consternation. Their only alibi had flown.


	2. Chapter 2

**Days 1, 2 and 3**

If Slim had left that comprehensive list of things which Jess and Andy were not to do, it might have altered the outcome of events during his five-day absence and they would not have needed any alibi – but then again, it might not have.

The first day proceeded reasonably sedately. Andy noticed that everything was much more relaxed when they didn't have anyone, as Jess put it, "lookin' over your shoulder all the time." The work got done and the stages serviced, but it was a lot more fun because it didn't matter if you didn't take it entirely seriously. Leaning on the corral fence together at the end of the day, they were able to tick off the list everything they should have done. Jonesy had left stew for the evening meal, so they didn't starve on this first day, and the ranch-house was locked up and quiet for the night at a reasonable hour.

The second day, the chores seemed to fly by, largely because, when he put his mind and energy to it, Jess could work extremely hard and efficiently. He was beginning to get bored with routine tasks and wanted to make time for something more to his own taste. Consequently, after a well-earned siesta, they spent the cooler hours of the afternoon working on the young horses which Jess and Slim had broken a few weeks earlier in the summer. They were mostly past the 'buck you off as soon as look at you' stage, but not entirely. Jess thought it would be useful if Andy learnt how to fall from a green horse without incurring too much damage. The lesson winded him a couple of times and he would certainly feel the bruises later, but the warm glow of achievement more than made up for this. Andy was already a highly competent rider on a schooled horse and Jess was pleased with the way he used his affinity with animals to help gentle the young horse he was training into a more reliable state of co-operation. As they leaned on the corral fence again, ticking off the day's list with some satisfaction, Jess noticed that one of the youngsters they had not ridden seemed, somehow, to have suffered an overreach. This led him to round up the whole bunch for inspection and to find that there had obviously been some kicking and jostling in the herd, resulting in a couple of other minor injuries which needed treating.

"Shall I get Jonesy's lineament?" Andy asked helpfully.

"No, it won't hurt if they wait an hour or so, and I want to show you somethin' else useful," Jess replied. "C'm on." He made for the back of the ranch-house, scooping up a bucket from the yard as he went, and began to climb up the steep bank, ducking under trees and weaving round bushes at a speed that made Andy pant to keep up with him. "Jess, why are you hurryin' so fast?" he appealed plaintively.

Jess stopped abruptly and Andy ran straight into the bucket. "I'm not hurryin' – just goin' at normal speed," Jess told him, somewhat puzzled.

"It isn't normal for me!" Andy snapped, rubbing a bruised knee.

Jess regarded him thoughtfully. "That's because you're tryin' too hard. It's like handlin' a gun or a horse – just do it naturally. Go gently, respect the earth and use -" he paused for a moment, gathering together some way to explain an inborn instinct. "Use your skin – it's nearest to the things you crash into and get caught on. Feel with your skin. An' with your feet." Another pause. "Then you've got these – two eyes, two ears and even a nose!" He flicked these under-utilised bits of anatomy with a swift finger as he spoke, causing Andy to yelp in surprise. "An' try not to use the mouth, maybe? Silence helps you concentrate."

Andy was taken aback for a moment. He hadn't expected a serious lesson in the middle of all the fun, but, as they started out again, he tried to put the instructions into practice, at the same time watching Jess to see how he was moving. It was a bit like a centipede trying to count its own legs, but he did seem to be keeping up with less effort.

Fortunately there was not far to go. Jess halted in a small clearing on the hillside and gave a grunt of satisfaction. "I thought I'd seen it growin' up here." Around the edge of the clearing grew a sturdy plant with blade-shaped, rough, dark-green leaves in which the ribs showed thickly and small clusters of bluish bell-like flowers. "Comfrey. Very useful plant. Grows wild in plenty of places." He carefully dug up a couple of plants, roots and all, saying as he did so, "Been meanin' to get some of this to plant for Jonesy – maybe a welcome home present'll make him sweeter about the kitchen!" Andy somehow doubted this reasoning, but was soon kept occupied as they gathered more leaves so they had an over-flowing bucketful.

Back in the ranch-house kitchen, these were ground up with oatmeal and honey, then transferred to a big saucepan with a little water and carefully heated on the stove. Leaving it to simmer for a while, they completed the evening chores together. By the time they had finished, a satisfying thick green oily ointment had developed, although the smell in the kitchen left something to be desired. It was this which prompted Andy to ask, once the horses had been treated, if they couldn't eat outside, an idea to which Jess agreed with enthusiasm.

The second day therefore ended under the big oak at the edge of the paddock, with a campfire over which they cooked chicken – Jess remarking cheerfully as he wrung its neck that this was one less of the darned things to get under his feet. Later, both of them agreeing it was stupid to sleep indoors on such a fine night, two bedrolls were spread alongside the fire and they settled down in reasonable time again. Jess was nothing loath to sleep in the open, as he was always most comfortable when there was nothing between him and the stars.

By mid-morning on the third day, man, boy and kitchen were beginning to look distinctly the worse for lack of attention, although the improvised campsite, the yard and the barn were in excellent shape. Jess had zipped through the day's tasks by taking the shortest way possible to finish each of them; he worked with the single-minded determination of a man who hates being tied down to lists! Andy had scampered through three days home-study in one, as was evident from the number of inkblots which were scattered over the table and his person. Those on the table were hastily covered with a tablecloth in order to keep up appearances when offering refreshments to passengers on the mid-morning stage and for the same reason the living room had been relatively tidied by the simple expedient of hurling all the debris temporarily into the bunk-room. At least, Jess hoped it was temporary, otherwise he sure was going to have trouble wading to his bunk if he ever intended to sleep in it again.

They had, however, made excellent time in changing the team, causing the driver to remark that Slim would soon be out of a job and enabling the swift departure of the guests who, if not unwelcome, were certainly holding up more important things. These included riding out boundary checking. Jess took Andy along with him – it wasn't on Slim's list and it certainly wasn't normal practice, but he was getting bored with being confined to the yard and felt he couldn't just leave Andy on his own at the ranch, even though he would have had no hesitation in doing so had it been his own brother. But Slim's motto with Andy seemed to be 'safety first' – or at least, this was the way Jess figured it was most prudent to interpret his instructions. Being well aware that not everything would meet his boss's exacting standards, Jess was prepared to play cautious to avoid too much recrimination. Provided, of course, the ranch-house didn't get broken into or burn down in their absence – which, fortunately, it didn't.

A successful check of the fences developed, on the way back, into a spirited horse-race, followed by Jess coaching Andy in some winning techniques such as split-second corner-cutting. By the time they had cooled off and rubbed down their horses, a meal and a siesta beckoned. Jess did cast an eye over the diminishing supply of clean plates and saucepans, but decided it was too hot to do anything about it until later. Later, however, they both became engrossed in target shooting practice, something Jess did every week because he said there was no point in being fast with a gun unless you stayed fast – otherwise you stayed dead.

When the evening chores were done, they found with satisfaction that they were still more or less on top of the list. But their campsite was abandoned that night with the advent of a sudden summer storm: as Jess pointed out, there was no sense at all in sheltering under a tree, especially when you had a perfectly good roof nearby. They sat on the porch, watching the play of lightning against the indigo sky until well into the night, when Jess suddenly remembered that something had been drummed into him about appropriate bedtimes – but by then it was literally too late.


	3. Chapter 3

**Morning - Day 4**

The fatal fourth day, consequently, did not start well. Over-sleeping meant that everything developed into a scramble and since scrambling is not efficient, things tended to go wrong. The cow kicked at the milk bucket and, although Andy caught it in time, a good quantity got splashed over him and the smell of milk going stale on his clothes was not a pleasant one. The hens seemed to have concealed their eggs in the most inaccessible and unlikely corners of the yard and it took ages to find enough for breakfast, let alone to top up their supplies.

Jess was already in a bad mood because one of the day's tasks was some blacksmithing. He didn't mind shoeing horses but disliked intensely what he called 'tinkerin' around with iron'. Added to this, the forge flatly refused to light, for no reason he could work out, and when Andy came to call him into breakfast, he was administering a totally useless kick to the offending contraption, which did nothing but hurt his foot. He limped back into the house and slammed himself into his chair at the breakfast table, muttering blackly under his breath about being tied down to someone else's damn fool ideas about working. Then he caught sight of Andy's stricken face. At the back of his young mind there was always the fear Jess would feel himself so hemmed in and restricted by life on the relay station that he would simply take off into the Big Open for good. It was at this point that Jess screwed up the list and said "To hell with this – let's go fishin'!"

"Really?" Relief shone all over Andy's face.

"Really – we've earned it!" Jess tossed the ball of paper in the direction of the fire. "Cheer up, Tiger! We can get an hour or so in between stages. Push this breakfast down you, then get the gear together and some supplies – you know what Jonesy normally puts in. I'll finish up as much as I can outside, but I ain't even startin' smithyin' – that forge is as dead as a piece of carrion!"

There is nothing like doing what you want to, and the thought of fresh fish for supper, to provide excellent motivation. They both started to move with cheerful alacrity, but they were doomed to be interrupted. There was the sound of hooves outside and it was clear someone was tying up at the hitching rail. Andy saw Jess's right hand drop automatically to check his gun, then he strode across the room, grabbing a rifle from the rack as he did so. Visitors at this time of the morning could easily spell trouble of some kind. He hand-signalled to Andy go to the gun-rack and stay inside. Then he opened the door with a reasonable amount of caution.

"There you are!" a loud voice proclaimed. "The man hi'self!"

Another voice, equally loud, chimed in: "We need you, Jess – got jus' the job for you!"

Andy recognised the voices. It was the Patterson twins. The two men were usually relatively harmless provided they were sober, which he presumed they would be at this early hour, but nonetheless he stayed where Jess had signalled him to and picked up a rifle.

"Ted, Stan, mornin'," Jess sounded wary and unwelcoming. "What d'you want?"

"Only to offer you part of a big reward, Jess – nothin' you'll regret havin'!"

"Reward for what?"

"Two kids have gone missin' from that big, new house on the edge of town. French family come over from the east, stayin' with Mr. Jameson. Weren't there this mornin' when the folks got up and Pa's raisin' hell with Mort about formin' posses. He's just rollin' in money and offerin' a big reward for anyone who can track down the kidnappers and get those girls back!"

"An' you're the best tracker in Laramie, so we figured if we teamed up together we'd all be in the money!"

"And presumably get the kids back too?" Jess commented drily.

"Hell, yes – two pretty young girls, from what I hear – shouldn't be difficult to track where they was took and very pleasant if we find 'em!" A volley of laughter accompanied this suggestion.

"You in then, Jess?" It was Ted asking.

"Count me out!" Jess replied without hesitation.

"What d'you mean?" Stan sounded as if he could turn nasty, as indeed a man might who had set his mind on getting wealthy without really making an effort.

"I mean what I said. I'm not comin'."

"You can't let us down."

"I can't let Slim down," Jess corrected him. "There's only me and Andy to run the station and there's no way I'm leavin' Andy to do it on his own!"

"Aw, Jess, just tell the kid to play by his self for once!"

Andy heard the rifle bolt click. Jess said coldly: "I'll forget you said that, Stan, if you're off this station in the next ten seconds. Otherwise I ain't gonna be accountable for what might just accidently happen to you."

There was the sound of a hasty scuffle as the men untied and mounted their horses. Then Jess spoke again. "I don't know where you're headin', but just you remember that it's kids you're lookin' for – lost, frightened kids! You act accordin', just the way I would if I'd found them or, so help me, you'll answer to me for it!"

Hooves clattered out of the yard. The door opened. Jess came in and restored the rifle to the rack. Finding Andy still standing ready on guard, he ruffled his hair approvingly, but made no comment.

"Jess – if it's kids who are lost, shouldn't you go after them?"

"You heard. I can't."

"But you're the best tracker – you'd find them!"

"Andy, there's no way I can do any such thing without leavin' you here and I ain't about to do that, so there's no option."

"There is. You could take me with you."

"And abandon the relay station? There's a stage due in midday and another this afternoon, so wherever we want to go, we can't leave before that." Although this was perfectly true, events were to turn out more or less according to this outline of what they were definitely not going to do.

Long before the midday stage, things began to go awry. It started when they were foraging in the woods along the Laramie road, collecting fallen branches and timber onto the wagon. This was a relatively easy task and they soon had plenty to replenish their supplies. They were both uneasily alert for sight or sound of the search for the missing children. What they saw instead was unusual bird sign, a couple of jays which suddenly began clattering and shrieking, diving from tree to tree as if mightily disturbed. There was definitely something large coming down the hillside, ploughing through the brush and bushes under the trees with single-minded determination of a migrating buffalo. Jess reached his rifle from the wagon and began cautiously to try to intercept whatever it was. Andy turned the wagon ready for home – there were a number of things from which they might want to make a quick exit.

Then he heard Jess laugh and call, "Andy! Come here quick!" Andy sprang out of the wagon and ran up the hill, to find Jess clutching a diminutive and very uncooperative pony with one hand, while trying to support the rider and his rifle at the same time with the other. "Take hold of this little pest, will y'! He'll behave for you, if for nobody else."

Andy laughed too and grabbed the bridle, saying in firm tones as he did so, "Patch! You old devil. Stop right now!" The pony stopped abruptly, simply digging all four hooves in. Jess just caught the child who was riding him in his arms in time, although it meant letting the rifle slide to the ground.

"Can you pick that up and bring him?" Jess hitched the child, a small girl, on to his shoulder and headed back towards the road. When they reached the wagon he managed to climb aboard with her still in his arms, leaving Andy to fasten Patch to the back and take the reins.

"D'you think we've found one?"

"Looks like it, but let's get her home first. She's not in too good a state."

"I wonder how she came to be riding Patch?" Andy turned to look with affection at the stubborn but gentle pony he had learned to ride on.

"No idea." Jess was more concerned with the state of the child than the question of the pony.

"Good job she was," Andy commented. "He would bring her here, 'cos he still thinks this is his home!"

"Maybe." Jess was not going to get into an argument about the fate of Patch, which was still a bone of contention between Andy and Slim. The child in his arms was shaking and sobbing, although by the way she was clinging to him, he reckoned that it was at least partly due to relief at being found. More confusingly, he could not understand a word she was saying.

By the time they reached the relay-station, the sobs had quietened to intermittent hiccups punctuated by sniffs and she was babbling to them in a rapid stream of what was obviously French. Jess carried her inside and deposited her on the couch, leaving Andy to tie up the wagon. He brought a bowl of water and a clean cloth and began carefully to bathe the scratches and bruises marking her legs and arms. When Andy joined him he issued some quick requests: "Bring me some of that oil we made for the horses, will y', and see if you can find an old shirt and trousers of yours, something you've grown out of – she can't go on wearin' this." The girl was most inappropriate dressed in what had once been a lovely white party frock, complete with bows and frills, but was now hanging blood-stained, dirty, and tattered into shreds. The lack of protection afforded by the material meant the child was also showing signs of sunburn and Jess was concerned that she had been out in the sun so long without a hat and with no water canteen. He fetched a glass of water for her – he was careful not to let her have too much, but squatted patiently beside the couch, letting her have just a few sips at a time.

Andy reappeared with the smallest of his cast-off clothing, but it was obviously going to be far too big. Although the girl was perhaps seven years old, she was tiny and delicate, with an alabaster skin, dark green eyes and long silver-blonde hair falling to her waist. If either of them had been in the mood for fanciful thinking, they might have imagined that they had rescued a fairy or wood-spirit. As it was, Jess at least was thinking only about practical considerations and, having found the kitchen scissors, proceeded to cut Andy's shirt and trousers down to a suitable length. "That should do for a bit." He sat back on his heels and regarded the results of his handiwork. The girl still resembled a fairy, but now a much more sensibly, albeit raggedly, clothed one. He laid a hand gently on the back of her neck and found that her temperature was slightly raised, but no more than one might expect on a hot day. All the same, another damp cloth was laid on her forehead. Jess crouched beside her, stroking the pale hair soothingly, saying quietly over and over again: "Sois tranquille - pas de danger." Presently she slept.

Andy sensibly began to tidy away the bowl, the cloths and the shredded dress, saying as he did so, "I didn't know you could speak French, Jess."

"I can't." Jess got to his feet and stretched wearily. "I know some words – mainly the kind you don't use in polite company – picked up most of it from a Frenchman in my patrol durin' the war. And I've ridden trail with some French Canadians – it's useful to have an idea of what they're sayin'." In fact, like many people who make little use of books and writing, he had a keen ear for the spoken word and an excellent memory, this being often the only means of retaining complex information. Growing up alongside Spanish-speaking Mexican workers and their families meant that it was second nature to use another language. Added to this, when he was drifting, he'd picked up a smattering of tribal languages and, as the result of some early adventures from which he was lucky to emerge more or less unscathed, he been forced to learn the rudiments of both Comanche and Apache.

"So what was she saying?" Andy asked.

"She's using the word for 'help'," Jess explained, "which ain't much help on its own. I asked about bad men and horses, but she just keeps shakin' her head." He paused, looking puzzled, "She's sayin' 'we went for a ride' – I'm sure of that, because 'ride' is one of the words you use a lot on the trail. Then she used just two other words I recognise, 'mountain' and 'stream'. Oh, and she kept callin' for her sister."

They stared at each other. A sister was to be expected, but there was an awful lot of mountain in the district and every mountain had many streams! Jess shrugged and turned to practicalities again. When he was quite sure the child would not wake, he picked her up carefully and carried her into the guest bedroom. There he laid her down on the bed; she just sighed and curled up into a deeper sleep.

"The stage for Cheyenne's due in twenty minutes. Pity it's not goin' the other way. We'll have to wait and put her on the afternoon one to Laramie to get her back to the sheriff's office and her kin. Now, let's get the team ready – she'll be safe enough in here and I reckon she'll sleep for a bit."

Andy stood for a moment, looking down in wonder at the tiny, frail creature, so different from anything in his experience. "It must be nice to have a sister …"

Jess put a hand on his shoulder, looking down too, but with lines of pain showing around his mouth and eyes. "Yes," he agreed softly, "yes, it is …"


	4. Chapter 4

**Noon – Day 4**

The stage for Cheyenne duly rolled in and caused them more delay and aggravation. The passengers were a particularly impatient lot and sat stubbornly in the coach, refusing all offers of refreshment by pointing out that they had not long started their journey. This was true enough, but Jess, at least, could never see why anyone in their right mind would refuse coffee! The driver, contrary to usual practice, didn't want the whole team changed, just to get rid of one of them who was not pulling its weight. The horse was, of course, the back marker and more than usually difficult to get out and into the barn, while its replacement got over-excited, barged into Andy who was trying to line it in and trod heavily on Jess's foot just as he was hitching it up. With enormous restraint, bearing in mind the angry glares of the passengers and the reputation of the relay station, Jess contained his opinion of the horse, the driver, the stage and those in it until they were safely over the horizon.

"And no fishing either!" Andy complained mournfully.

"Don't remind me!" It was almost the last straw, but then Jess said more reasonably, "You don't think we'd be leavin' that child now, do you, Andy? Besides, I reckon we just earned ourselves half of a big reward – enough to buy a whole day's fishin'!"

"We didn't really earn it," Andy pointed out with typical Sherman honesty. "And we ought to do something about the other girl, oughtn't we?"

"Like what?" Jess asked crossly. "I go and look for her on some mountain in some stream, leavin' you here with the kid? We both go and leave the kid on her own? We all go and miss the afternoon stage and leave the station unattended? Which option would you like me to pick?"

"Sorry, Jess! I guess I wasn't thinking."

"Yes, you were!" Jess's bad temper disappeared as fast as it had come. He ruffled Andy's hair and said, "It was the best kind of thinkin', because you were carin' about someone and tryin' to help them. But," he paused thoughtfully, "I just can't see how we're goin' to do it."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Andy told him optimistically.

"Yeah, 'specially with the other half of that reward to egg me on!" Jess grinned mischievously. "Now, let's get the horse rubbed down and the wagon unloaded. Then we can fix somethin' to eat and see if the kid's up to it."

It was easily half an hour before they finally got back into the house. There was no sound from the bedroom and they crept into the kitchen to find something to eat. This proved problematical, as neither of them were very certain what seven year old French girls were likely to enjoy and, anyway, there was not very much choice.

"France is famous for its cheese," Andy said knowledgeably.

"That's just as well, since bread and cheese is about all we've got without doin' some serious cookin'!"

"The French are famous for cooking too."

"There's not a hope of her enjoyin' ours!"

After these unhelpful reflections, they assembled a simple meal by adding fruit to the bread and cheese and unearthing a pitcher of lemonade from the cool store. Then Jess opened the bedroom door quietly and went in.

"O hell!" He reappeared abruptly, looking shaken. "She's gone!"

"What d'you mean, gone?" Andy demanded.

"Gone – as in run off – disappeared - without even tryin' our cooking!" Jess attempted to make light of the situation, but Andy could see that he was really seriously worried. "We'll have to go after her – we can't leave a little 'un wanderin' about on her own." He thought for a moment, before he said, "Can you saddle Trav and Sparks, Andy? Then load up this gear we were goin' to take fishing – no sense in settin' out without proper supplies. I have a look outside and see if I can make out her tracks - Just a minute!" He looked closely at the pile of fishing gear and said sharply, "Did you fill those canteens?"

"Yeah – two big ones. They've gone!"

"Maybe she's got a lot of sense for her size," Jess commented. "Now get goin'! We need to catch up with her real soon."

Andy was no sooner out of the door than he gave a yell which brought Jess out to his side. "Look! Patch is missing!"

"Little varmint's probably worked loose," Jess suggested. "Are you sure you tied him up properly?"

Andy gave him a look of contempt. "He was my pony. D'you think I don't know all his tricks?"

"Sorry! Then she must have taken him. That should make her easier to track."

This was something of a relief. Although they did not know how much of a head start the runaway had gained, a pony was much easier to track than a small, light child. Before they could set off, however, Jess made sure that they had left everything ready for the afternoon stage, with a notice nailed up on the barn asking the driver and guard to change the team themselves. This was not a common occurrence, but it was understood that emergencies could and did happen on the relay stations from time to time. He also made sure of their own water supplies and added a couple more coils of rope to their equipment, since it seemed likely they were heading up a mountain.

They hadn't gone far when it became apparent that the pony had gone back up the hillside exactly the way he had come down. This posed another problem, as there was no way the bigger horses could easily follow him.

"Andy, am I right in thinkin' there's a path further along the road, goes up to the ridge, and then back along in this direction?"

"That's right." Andy know the immediate vicinity of the ranch very well. "I guess Patch will come out onto it, if he keeps going uphill."

"We'll have to hope he does. Now, can you follow them on foot? You'll be quicker than I would in all the undergrowth, because you're nearer their size. If you don't find anything or you lose the trail, keep right on uphill and I'll meet you on the path. I should be able to pick out the trail where they came down and I expect they'll stick to it goin' up."

"Sure. And I'll remember what you told me, about feeling with my skin."

Jess nodded in approval and took Sparks' reins from Andy. He didn't add any further instructions because he relied on Andy to use his common sense and the skills he had been taught. Besides, the trail was not going to be easy to miss. Jess turned the horses and headed swiftly for the broader path. "See you at the top, Tiger!"

When he reached the top, the track which the pony had taken down was obvious, as it was a steep, narrow gully falling away from the main path – almost impossible for a horse, but no problem to a small, sure-footed pony with determination the size of Patch's. Jess had only just drawn to a halt when there were sounds of something heavy moving below him, quickly followed by the sudden squawk of a surprised pheasant, a violent scrabble of hooves and a yell from Andy.

"Andy! Are you all right?" Jess vaulted off Traveller and began to slide rapidly down the gully.

"Yeah, we're all fine!"

Wondering whether this day was actually going to give him a heart-attack, Jess stopped and leaned thankfully against a handy boulder, trying to still his racing heart. "What happened?" he demanded as the trio came into sight.

"I fell over a pheasant," Andy admitted.

"And landed in a bush, by the looks of it!" Andy's face was showing a number of recent scratches, although they didn't look too serious. Patch and his rider appeared to be totally unharmed. That, at least, was a further relief, but they had no time to enjoy it as the girl and pony pushed unceremoniously past them, heading up for the path. Andy and Jess exchanged baffled looks, before scrambling up behind them.

On the main path, they found Patch had turned back up the mountain, urged on by the persistent drumming of the little girl's heels against his fat sides. He was not going very fast and Jess took time to look over the path itself and the signs it held. "What d'you make of this, Andy?" Despite the seriousness of the situation, he was not simply going to take charge without allowing Andy to share in solving the problem.

"Patch's tracks are clear enough," Andy responded immediately. "Going up, maybe six hours ago – a long time, anyway. Here he is, coming down again, when we met him."

"What about this?" Jess pointed to another, slightly larger set of hoof-prints.

Andy wrinkled his brow and then said tentatively, "A bigger pony, obviously – was it leading Patch? The prints are underneath his in places."

"Very likely," Jess agreed. "Lively animal too – look here, where he's dancin' all over the track, somethin' in the bushes spooked him probably. Good rider too." He gestured to a smaller area where the grass beside the path had been trampled and the pony's hoof-marks gouged in deeply. A plain set of even prints, showing that it had been brought under control, led from this back on to the path.

"But if we can see this," Andy reasoned, "why is there no sign of the posse? The trail's not that difficult, if I can read it."

"You did good," Jess told him with an encouraging slap on the shoulder. He thought for a moment before answering the question. "If they did come up this way – and they may not have - I guess they weren't lookin' for ponies. They'll be lookin' for kidnappers, same as we would – two horses at least, ridden double. But we were all wrong, so let's see what Patch can show us."

It did not take the horses long to catch up with the pony and his rider. Since there was a clear trail to follow and someone who presumably needed rescuing at the end of it, Jess was not prepared to go at the pace of the smallest mount. With a mixture of gentleness, firmness and basic French, he persuaded the girl to let him pick her up and carry her in front of him on Traveller.

"Take Patch's bridle off, will y'?" he asked Andy. "Don't want him snaggin' on anything. He'll either follow us or get himself home safely."

This done, they made much quicker progress following the path up the spur of the mountain which lay between the relay station and Laramie, as it wound up towards a steep gorge, overhung by a formidable bluff. Nonetheless, it was another half hour before they found any indications that they were getting near the end of their quest.

Andy had discovered the little girl's name, 'Celestine', by the simple expedient of pointing to himself and Jess and using their names. This pleased the younger members of the party, but Jess was preoccupied by the length of time Celestine had been lost without food or drink and was encouraging her to take sips of water and bites of the cheese he had fished out of a saddlebag as they rode along. She still didn't have a hat, either, so he had tied his bandanna round her head for a headscarf, which at least protected her neck, and she was also sheltered to some extent by the shadow of his body.

Finally they arrived at a point below the bluff where a stream would have cascaded down the mountainside in winter. Now there was only a shallow trickle, exposing the steep, sandy bed, scattered with random boulders of all sizes. The stream took a direct path upwards, unlike the trail they were riding which made a long, gentle loop before crossing the stream again almost at the top of the bluff and much higher up.

"Exhibit A – one mountain – and Exhibit B – one stream," Jess remarked sardonically.

"Oui! La montagne, le fleuve," Celestine agreed excitedly, pointing.

Jess regarded the clear trail, which left the path and headed up the bed of the stream, with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "Only a lunatic would ride up that!"

"Ma soeur, Chantal!"

It was the first time this name had entered the conversation and the circumstances in which it did so probably had a lot to do with certain relationships which were to develop over the course of the next few hours. With an irritated scowl, Jess looked up, measuring the possibilities for disaster in attempting to follow the same course. He would have had to be desperate or on the run before he would have chosen such a route and there was no way he was going to do so now. "C'm on! Up the mountain!"

Andy was taken by surprise. "Shouldn't we follow the trail up the stream?" He urged Sparks into the stream bed. "Come on, Jess. We're wasting time! They must have got up there somehow." He looked back to see if Jess was following.

"The angels must have been lookin' after them, then!" Jess retorted angrily. "Use your common sense, Andy. I ain't risking your neck or the horses' legs on that climb!" Celestine had begun to cry again when she realised he was not going to ride up the stream and Andy's lack of co-operation was not helping either. "Now let's get a move on!"

He turned Traveller back onto the path and urged him into a steady lope which the horse could maintain, even uphill, for some time. After a while, Andy caught up with him. "Sorry, Jess – I guess I wasn't thinking again!"

Jess looked down at his contrite expression and smiled. "You were worryin' again. Seems as if you've got the habit as bad as your big brother!" And because he knew that the worry came from real concern for other people, he went on "I'm sorry too, Andy. I get angry instead of worryin'. But I'm doin' my best to get us as there as fast as I can! It won't help anyone to arrive with a broken leg, ours or the horses, will it?"

They continued at a good pace and soon came to the top of the ridge, where the land fell away into a deep canyon. Celestine had become very excited and, by both word and gesture, made it clear that her sister had fallen in some way from the cliff. Andy and Jess exchanged a look full of dread at the possible results of such a fall.

They dismounted and left the horses standing. Andy would have rushed straight to the edge, but almost immediately realised this would be foolhardy. Jess turned Celestine over to Andy's care. Then he dropped to his knees, crawled carefully to the edge, lay down flat and peered cautiously over.

"There's someone down there all right - narrow ledge, about twenty feet down - there's an overhang too," he reported. He wriggled back a safe distance and got to his feet, considering the best way to approach the rescue they now had to mount. Andy quietly unhooked the ropes they had brought, knowing that whatever Jess decided, these would be needed.

"Thanks!" Jess noticed and appreciated this sensible preparation. "I'll have to go down and have a look. Can't see properly from here just how she's fixed."

"It is the other girl?" Andy was relieved.

"Yes - silly little ..." Jess just caught himself in time. He was aware of making a snap judgement which might not be fair in the circumstances, but this was yet another problem in a day already fraught with them. When he had got up that morning, all he had anticipated was a peaceful time fishing and maybe a quiet swim!

"There's nowhere to tie a rope," Andy pointed out in worried tones.

"Yes there is." Jess gave Traveller an encouraging pat. "You can hold more'n my weight, can't you!" The horse rubbed his head against Jess's shoulder as if agreeing, which indeed he probably was.

Jess made one end of the rope fast to the saddle-horn, taking it round the horse's quarters, then back to the saddle again and finally across Traveller's chest. "Cinch is new so it should hold, but keep an eye on it for me, will y', Tiger? If it starts to give, tell Trav 'back quick' and he'll pull me up pronto. If I can get a rope round the girl, you'll need to tell him to 'back slow' so he doesn't drag us both face first across the rock face. He'll be fine backin', because it means he can see what's goin' on. Just stay close to him and he'll do the rest."

Andy nodded, knowing that horse and rider shared an unusual level of communication and that Traveller would respond reliably to quite a number of varied commands. He took hold of Celestine's hand more tightly than ever so she would not get in the way or get accidentally hurt. Jess settled the other end of the rope to his satisfaction so that he could abseil down, but if he fell, the loop at the end would catch him before he hit the bottom – _an' probably break all my ribs_ , he thought gloomily. Nonetheless, he told Traveller to take the strain as he backed off the edge. It wasn't until his hat had disappeared from sight that Andy remembered how much Jess disliked heights.

Almost as soon as he had begun the descent, Jess could see there were going to be problems. The cliff-face angled out for about thirty feet, then cut away sheer into a drop of some two hundred feet, ending in the boulder-strewn bed of what was sometimes a large river. The cliff surface was bone dry and the rock was crumbling under his boots, even as he abseiled down. He kept his eyes firmly on the rock in front of him, knowing that if he looked down he was only going to make himself feel ten times worse than he did already.

When he reached the ledge, he found it was so narrow that he could barely get more than a toe-hold on it and as he did it began to break away alarmingly. He snatched a quick look to his left and saw the girl had taken shelter from the sun in the shade of a more pronounced part of the overhang about ten feet further along. But there was no way the ledge would hold his weight if he tried to edge along and put a rope round her; in fact he was likely to destroy what little foothold was left.

He took time to review the possibilities. The girl did not appear to be panicking and, indeed, seemed to be behaving quite sensibly; she was sitting still, holding herself braced and wedged reasonably securely in a crevasse of the rock. She was a slender slip of a child with a long plait of that shining hair and didn't look as if she would equal Andy in either age or weight. A few more minutes spent rigging a way to get her up safely was not going to do her any harm. But he could not get to her himself.

"Andy!"

"Yes?"

"Tell Trav to pull me up, nice and slow, will y'?"

As the rope tightened and he began to walk himself up the cliff-face, he called over his shoulder: "Don't panic – we'll get you up in a minute." He could not see whether the girl responded to this or not and in the stress of the moment, didn't think to put it into French.

Once back at the top, Jess turned to Andy, who was leading Traveller back to the edge. "Thanks, partner! You did a good job there. But we've got a problem. The rock is too weak and crumbling to hold me, so I can't get along the ledge to the girl."

"I'll go!" Andy said at once. "You and Slim taught me how to climb with a rope and I ain't afraid!"

"I'm not," Jess corrected with a grin. "You're a Sherman with Sherman courage, so speak properly when you're volunteering!"

Andy grinned back, pleased that he was upholding the family honour. "What do you want me to do?"

"I'm going to make a harness on the end of the other rope. We don't know if she's ever climbed a cliff, but I don't think it's likely, so we need to make sure she is secure and don't end up covered with rope burns." Jess ran a finger over the faint scar on his neck, his eyes momentarily clouded with some painful memory. Then he continued, "You need to edge along and make sure she gets the harness on safely. Give me a shout when you're both clear of the overhang and Trav can pull you up together. She's no heavier than you are."

Jess suited his actions to his words, beginning by cutting up part of the bedroll blanket to form a sort of poncho which the girl could slip over her head for added protection against the rope. He pushed firmly to the back of his mind Slim's probable reaction to hearing that his little brother had been dangling on a rope over a two hundred foot drop – there was no other option and he knew he was doing everything in his power to make sure that neither of the youngsters could fall.

"Will your pants stay up without your belt, Andy?" Andy shook his head vigorously and Jess said resignedly, "All right – can't have you tryin' to pull them up at the end of a rope hangin' over a canyon! An' it'd hardly be polite in front of a female. I'll use mine."

Lean though he was, Jess's belt was obviously going to be far too big for a slender girl, but he managed gouge another hole for the buckle with his knife and used more rope to form a kind of harness to secure it. "Get her to put the blanket on first. You buckle the belt round her like this – make sure she's got it under both arms – then tighten these two slip-knots, like so – she should be quite secure."

Andy was following the procedure closely and was confident that he understood what was to be done. Then it was his turn as Jess fastened a section of the other rope into a secure position over his jacket and made sure that he had the loose part of it correctly positioned so that he would not get tangled up with the second rope and its harness as he was lowered. Jess told Traveller to hold the strain once more. Andy took a deep breath as the rope went taut and he stepped over the edge.

It was not until he found himself suspended above the canyon that he realised what a terrifying fall was below him. There was nothing but air all around him and the crumbling rock sliding past as Jess lowered him gently down and it felt like hours before his feet hit the ledge and he could call "OK. Stop. I'm down."

Andy steadied himself with his hands and began to ease his way carefully along the ledge to the waiting girl. "I'm Andy – don't worry, we'll get you up!" He scarcely took a look at her, he was so intent on getting the protective blanket and the rescue harness secured so that they could both be pulled up and away from the horrible drop which lay below them. The girl co-operated without saying a word. Maybe her mouth was too dry – Andy thought of the long hours she had crouched here without anything to drink. Maybe she was just shocked and frightened. He was worrying about her lack of communication, until he realised maybe she did not speak English well enough to understand what was going on. When he was certain she was safely fastened to the rope, Andy beckoned her to follow him out from under the overhang so that there was only a direct vertical lift for Traveller to pull against.

"Pull us up!" he called to Jess when all was ready. He felt the ropes tighten and concentrated on guiding the girl and keeping her from scraping against the rock-face until they were once more on the lovely, hard, flat ground of the bluff.

Jess told Traveller to stand and lifted down Celestine, whom he had put into the saddle for safety. She ran at once to the other girl and flung her arms round her. They clung together, too emotional even to speak. Jess gave Andy an approving punch on the arm, then went over to the stream with the remains of the blanket, which he proceeded to soak. Having done this, he removed the harness from the rescued girl and wrapped her in the wet blanket. Andy realised that this was a precaution to counteract the effect of such long exposure to the sun, but, even with his limited knowledge of females, he wasn't sure it was going to make Jess popular.

Popularity was the last thing on Jess's mind. He was entirely preoccupied with getting the two strays safely back to the ranch as quickly as possible, which explained the cursory examination and cavalier treatment that he accorded the girl. He retrieved his belt and wound up the ropes, hitching them back on the saddle of the patiently waiting Traveller.

"Andy, can you manage with Celestine in front of you?" Andy nodded, jumped on to Sparks and the little girl was lifted up to him. Jess bent and picked up the other girl, still enveloped in the blanket, then walked over to his own horse. "Down, Trav!" Traveller obligingly knelt down, enabling Jess to mount easily despite his burden. At another brief command, the horse rose to its feet and the party set off back down the mountain.

Jess looked at the closed eyes and rapid breathing of the rescued girl, not to mention the evidence he could see of sunburn and the fact that she was certainly going to be dehydrated. "We have to get this one back to the ranch as soon as we can. If you find I'm goin' too fast for you to manage safely with Celestine, slow down. You know the way home.

.

XXXXX

.

Chantal Picard was not a young woman who fainted easily, despite the fragile appearance and other-worldly beauty she shared with her little sister. For one thing, she despised anything that made her look weak and, with four brothers between her and Celestine, was accustomed to asserting her independence and self-reliance on a more or less daily basis. She had endured with fortitude the fall down the cliff, the appalling danger of her position on the ledge and the fact that her rescue depended on the efforts of her much younger sister. During the long hours she was marooned, she did not give up hope and kept fear at bay by sheer will-power, of which, it must be said, she had plenty.

The sound of hooves above her at the top of the bluff made her heart race. She could only hope it was Celestine with someone who would be able to rescue her, but she could not call out – her mouth was too dry. After what seemed an age, she heard scuffling sounds as someone lowered themselves towards her on a rope. Rocks crumbled and clattered at the would-be rescuer struggled to gain a foothold on the narrow ledge. The bright sunlight made it impossible to see more than a silhouette, a slim shadow that she took to be just a youth of her own age until she heard his voice. The deep baritone was definitely older.

"Andy! - Tell Trav to pull me up, nice and slow, will y'?"

He was going to leave her there! Chantal's heart lurched with terror at the thought of being abandoned and fear enraged her, because she would not admit to it. She was further infuriated by the throw-away remark as he disappeared up the cliff-face: "Don't panic – we'll get you up in a minute." How dare he assume she was panicking? If she had not been in such a precarious position, she would probably have thrown something at him.

She could hear voices above her, so there must be someone else in the rescue party besides this heartless man who didn't even try to toss her the end of a rope. The gravelly tones were issuing instructions and being answered by a lighter, much younger voice – father and son, no doubt. Fathers did not go down well in Chantal's book, as her own was, she considered, far too fond of restricting her actions and expecting at least a modicum of conventional behaviour from her. She knew, deep-down, that her father loved and respected her, but their day-to-day relationship was frequently one of pitch battle between her independence and his authority. It was just her luck to be rescued by a father, when she had been diverting her mind from her immediate danger by picturing being saved by a romantic hero – and one of those would definitely be easier to handle!

These thoughts were interrupted by more sounds from the cliff-face and soon she saw a boy of about thirteen edging along the rock-face towards her. It was much better able to bear his weight than that of the older man, but Chantal was in no state to feel reasonable about this.

"I'm Andy – don't worry, we'll get you up!" He scarcely took a look at her, he was so intent on getting a poncho over her head and the rescue harness secured so that they could both be pulled up and away from the horrible drop which lay below them. She co-operated without saying a word. They edged out from beneath the overhang and Andy called to the man above: "Pull us up!" She felt the ropes tighten and concentrated on scrambling her way up the rock-face until they were once more on the lovely, hard, flat ground of the bluff.

She came over the edge face down and, after a brief and unsuccessful struggle to get to her knees, lay still, exhausted and blinded by the bright sunlight. A moment later, Celestine flung her arms round her. They clung together, too emotional even to speak. Then she felt strong hands raising her and the rescue harness was removed, only to be replaced by the restriction of something wet and prickly. She gathered her strength of fight it off, but before she could do so, she was immobilized in someone's arms and felt herself picked up and suddenly lurching, totally unexpectedly, high into the air. Entirely helpless, still blinded by the bright light and with nothing to grab hold of and no notion of what was actually happening, it was at this point that she finally fainted.

Much later, it seemed, she was woken by the blissful sensation of water trickling between her lips. She gulped eagerly, feeling the parched membranes of her mouth and throat soothed by the tepid water which she would have summarily rejected if anyone had suggested she drink it at home. But the canteen was withdrawn all too quickly and she struggled to free her arms and grab the source of the refreshment she needed so badly.

"Hold still, stupid child! You'll have us both on the ground!" It was the father again, the husky tones deepened to a growl of anger. Actually it was obvious that he was a superb horseman by the way he effortlessly controlled his mount without using the reins in an extremely rapid descent of the mountain, as he skilfully balanced his cumbersome and mutinous burden in both arms.

Chantal grasped now that she was on horseback, still confined by a wet blanket and securely held by strong arms clamping her against the rider. She knew from the sheer feel of the hard-muscled body against which she was resting that she had no chance in an all-out struggle. She fumed inwardly at the unfair advantage male strength gave fathers – but, rescue or no rescue, she was not going to submit to this one for one second longer than she had to!


	5. Chapter 5

**Afternoon - Day 4**

When they finally reached the ranch, Jess rode Traveller right up to the porch, then asked him to kneel again. He dismounted and carried the girl into the cool shelter of the house, followed closely by Andy and Celestine, who had managed to keep up very well. Jess was still in a mind-set where he was dealing with two children who had become one very large problem. He knew how dangerous exposure to the sun could be and was determined to treat the effects as best he could. Consequently he paused only to toss his hat onto the peg by the door, before he carried his victim towards the kitchen, saying as he did so, "Good job we made plenty of that stuff – it's sovereign for sunburn. Get the saucepan, will y' Andy?"

This bought an outburst of French from the girl, who, although still somewhat dazed, was wriggling hard to escape from the enfolding blanket, which itched considerably. Chantal could speak perfectly fluent English when she chose, but, in moments of stress, preferred to resort to her native tongue.

"Keep still!" Jess tightened his arms around her and lifted her bodily into the kitchen. Then he tried French, for good measure: "Se calmer!" This had absolutely no effect. If anything, the struggle became fiercer, especially when Chantal realized that he was proposing to anoint her with the peculiar, green sludge in the saucepan Andy was holding out.

"It smells!" she yelled. "Vous aussi!"

This insult only had the effect of irritating Jess even more. Discarding the blanket, he managed to pin both her arms to her sides with one of his own, while, with his free hand, getting a palmful of sludge. This arm went round her neck, enabling him to force her head up. "Yeah, it smells. An' it'll hurt if it goes in your eyes, so hold still!"

"Vous brute! Je ne laisai pas me toucher. Don't you dare touch me!"

Finding himself lacking in the French vocabulary to respond forcibly enough to this, Jess switched automatically to Spanish, in which he had considerably more fluency. "Haz lo que yo digo! Esto es para su propio bien."

This appeal for obedience and common sense fell on deaf ears. Chantal clearly understood Spanish too, but had no intention of co-operating, because she yelled at him: "Matón! Gamberro!" She wrenched an arm free and grabbed the nearest weapon, which happened to be a wooden spoon, and aimed a furious swipe at him. It was the wooden spoon in the saucepan of ointment. Green sludge flew everywhere. As an attempt at redecoration, it could not have been bettered.

Jess wrested the spoon from her without much effort, but with considerable impatience. He had every intention of carrying out his plan to counteract the effects of the exposure the girl had suffered as far as he could. She had not been wearing a hat and even though she had sought the shade of the overhang, her skin bore the signs of several hours in the baking heat. The thin, lacy, short-sleeved blouse she was wearing offered very little protection and revealed enough skin to show that her shoulders were certainly red and likely to be very sore without some soothing treatment.

What happened next was directly governed by two factors. The first was Jess's unusual lack of observation of certain facts which were staring him literally in the face. This was entirely caused by his preoccupation with and concern for the safety of what he persisted in perceiving as two children. The second was the fact that females of the Picard family were small and delicately built. Physical appearance was no indication of Chantal's actual toughness and it did not, at first glance, give the impression of adulthood either. This appearance of youth was added to because she was wearing her hair plaited in a long braid, an excellent style for riding, but not one which gave any indication of mature feminine sophistication.

Having more or less successfully anointed Chantal's face with the comfrey oil, Jess had every intention of applying the rest of it to the burns which were showing and saw no particular reason why she should object to him doing so, any more than a kid sister of his own would have. Chantal, however, was still regarding him as the father figure with whom she had no intention of co-operating and her struggles became accordingly violent.

"Those burns need treatin'. Now loosen that shirt!" He grabbed a handful of the offending garment, which, never having been designed for such treatment, simply ripped apart in a cascade of neat, pearl buttons. This was not quite what he had intended, but it certainly simplified matters. "Andy, get that stuff on her, will you, 'cos I'm goin' to have to hold her still!"

Andy gave a gulp, turned bright red and said with a gasp, "I think you'd better ask Celestine to do it, Jess!"

"What? Why - Ow!" Jess gave a yelp of pain as Chantal stamped hard on his instep, elbowed him spiritedly in the stomach and, as his grip momentarily loosened, whirled round towards him with such force that her braided hair slapped hard across his face.

Looks charged with fury flashed between them. But Jess's look mingled the shock of sudden comprehension with an almost irresistible urge to laugh; it was a 'well I'll be damned!' moment, and, judging by the look on the young woman's face, he probably would be if she had anything to do with it! In Chantal's look there was an unmistakable gleam of triumph and satisfaction, closely followed by the realisation that she was not facing anyone remotely resembling the boy's father.

Jess wiped his stinging eyes and took a step back. He folded his arms and leaned back against the stove, with every appearance of being completely unmoved. Chantal tossed her hair back and glared at him, registering for the first time that this man was indeed not so much older than she was and far from bad-looking. He might sound like a father and behave like one, but he was definitely a whole lot younger than fathers were in her experience. In fact he didn't look so very much older than the boy she had taken for his son. Chantal smiled inwardly, as she considered herself far better at handling young men than old ones. On the other hand this one was looking at her without any of the expressions she was used to. The chiselled planes of his face were hard, the lips compressed in a narrow line, the dark brows twisted inward in a formidable frown. He actually looked unexpectedly stern and forbidding, unless there was the merest hint of amusement in his very bright blue eyes. Was he laughing at her? She was immediately determined to get the upper hand and pay him back, by whatever means she could.

"You're goin' to get those burns seen to!" The attractive huskiness of his voice had hardened to the rasp of steely determination.

"I will do it myself!" Chantal stamped her foot furiously, narrowly missing his toes, though not by intention. "Je ne suis pas un enfant - un niño!"

"Really?" One eyebrow quirked up and the gravelly tones were loaded with sarcasm, as he added for good measure: "Estás comportando como uno!"

"I am not! Leave me alone. Matón! You brute!"

Jess merely regarded her steadily and without any sign of relenting in his determination that she would do as he said.

"I can deal with it myself," Chantal repeated.

"I'm waitin'." He reached for the saucepan, which Andy had put back on the stove.

"You can wait – outside! OUT! You burro!" She grabbed his arm, attempting to push him out of the kitchen but it was like trying to move a slender statue of solid steel. As he was still holding the saucepan, considerable further progress was made on the redecoration of the kitchen.

At this point Celestine, well used to her sister's fiery behaviour, decided to make it plain where she stood. She ran to Jess, her arms open. He hastily dumped the saucepan, splashing yet more sludge on the surroundings, then picked her up and hugged her. Celestine told her sister in no uncertain terms: "Il est un gentilhomme." Chantal could not fail to notice the way his expression softened as he looked at Celestine and the gentleness with which those powerful hands were holding the child, so different from the way they had managed to impose their will on her.

"If he is a gentleman, he will go," she murmured and looked up at him, under her thick golden eye-lashes, with clear jade-green eyes. It never failed with young men.

This one just frowned and said coolly, "Providin' you do as you're told and don't try any fool ideas about runnin' away again! Andy, can you find another shirt, please? I think the … er … the young lady will be needin' one."

"Sure, Jess!" Andy made a thankful exit from the kitchen. Jess, still holding Celestine in his arms, brushed past Chantal, murmuring as he did so: "¿Por qué no comportarse como una mujer?"

Chantal resisted the temptation to snap back that he obviously didn't even recognise a woman when he saw one, let alone know how to treat one, and instead decided to stand on her dignity, or what was left of it. "I would like some privacy!" she appealed to his back. "Somewhere to wash?" He turned and, seeing his expression, she hastily added, "Then I will use the medicine!"

"You'd better!" He led the way into the living room and opened a door at the back, which led to a small bedroom with two beds. He deposited Celestine on one and waited with a most forbidding expression until Chantal followed him into the room. "We'll bring you some hot water." The next moment, he was gone.

Shortly afterwards, there was a knock at the door. When Chantal opened it, an apologetic Andy handed her a bowl of hot water, soap, towel, hair brush – all of them clean – a smaller bowl of the ointment and a replacement shirt, which was clearly going to be far too big for her. When she had accepted these, he came back carrying a tray with some fruit, a glass and a small pitcher of water. "Jess says don't drink too much too quickly." She frowned momentarily, but knew in her heart it was good advice, so instead she smiled and bent to drop a kiss on the top of his head, which caused sensations which Andy found difficult to manage. Fortunately the door closed immediately and he was quickly submerged in the practical tasks which would get the relay station back into some sort of working order.

In the bedroom Chantal smiled to herself, although she rather regretted that Andy had been the one to deliver the necessities to her. Perhaps this was deliberate? When she had washed, she duly applied the smelly lotion and was surprised at how soothing it was. She drank the water – slowly – and ate some of the fruit. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair drowsily, and trying to work out what kind of a situation she had fallen into. Clearly she was not dealing with father and son, but neither did they appear to be brothers – the physical differences between them were too great and she had already noticed that the man – "Jess" the boy had called him – treated Andy as an equal in way which was unusual, at any rate in her experience of brothers. While she was puzzling over this, the stresses of a long day, which had begun before dawn, gradually overcame her and she sank back into a deep, refreshing sleep.

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 **Translations:**

Haz lo que yo digo! Esto es para su propio bien. - Do as I tell you! It is for your own good.

Matón - bully

Gamberro – thug

Estás comportando como uno!" – You are behaving like one.

"¿Por qué no comportarse como una mujer? – Why don't you behave like a woman?


	6. Chapter 6

**Evening – Day 4**

Chantal awoke some time later to find herself alone. From the living room, she could hear happy voices and some giggling from Celestine. The male voice was light, young, so she deduced that it was Andy who was entertaining her sister. She checked her appearance in the small mirror with which the room was provided, making sure some evidence of the lotion was visible on her face and arms. While this did nothing, she considered, to enhance her attractiveness, she was in no doubt Jess would be more peremptory about having his instructions obeyed than he would be impressed with her appearance. Her hair, loosed from the confining braid, was still floating in a cloud about her shoulders and down to her waist. It was that fine, soft gold which gleams with flashes of silver when the light touches it and it was the one female asset remaining in her armoury, as the shirt she was wearing was distinctly utilitarian and several sizes too big for her, so that she had to roll up the sleeves and cinch the waist in with the belt of her riding skirt. Chantal sighed in frustration. A girl needed some weapons to hold her own in what was, unmistakably, a male-dominated home. She drew herself up for battle and opened the door.

In the living room, Andy was teaching Celestine how to light the fire. They both looked more than a little grubby from the charcoal, but also very relaxed and cheerful. Chantal registered that her sister's party frock, which she had unsuitably appeared in the morning, was not in evidence. Celestine was happily wearing a pair of cut-down trousers and a shirt which seemed to have received the same rather rough treatment. Chantal wisely refrained from making any comment. She seated herself on the couch which was drawn up in front of the fire and watched the flames, licking and flickering as they took hold of the kindling and then the larger logs. Presently a pleasant blaze got going and the warmth was welcome as the sun gradually sank behind the mountains and the chill of the late summer evening made itself felt.

Chantal looked curiously round the room, which was obviously the main living room of the ranch. It was practical rather than ornamental, the furniture plain but comfortable and the walls unadorned by any pictures, although there were several shelves of books and a large desk stacked with legers and piles of paper. There were two photographs on the mantelpiece, one of a married couple and the other of the same couple, the woman holding a toddler with an older boy sitting at her feet. Neither child bore any resemblance to the dark, unruly looks which characterised Jess. The mantelpiece also contained the usual masculine clutter of knives, string, a small half-finished carving of a rearing horse, cigarette papers, a handful of cartridge cases and a box of dominoes. There was more masculine clutter in the form of fishing poles, bed-rolls and several coils of rope stacked in one corner, next to a well-equipped gun rack. It was a reminder that this home was in wild country a long way from town. But the bright curtains and the fur rugs scattered across the floor softened the harsh plainness and the big table had a well-used air of hospitality about it. All the same, she was sure the pictures were historic and there was no feminine influence about this household.

Chantal regarded the table thoughtfully. Sooner or later, they were all going to have to eat and, judging by what she had seen of the kitchen, cooking was going to present some problems. She had no intention of washing up for any man, however good looking. On the other hand, she was not prepared to starve on his account either. She thought some more and then issued a series of rapid commands in French to Celestine and, as an afterthought, in English to Andy.

A while later, boots sounded on the porch and the door opened. The young man came in, evidently having been working at the outside chores. He had also evidently had a wash under the pump in the yard, because his shirt was in one hand and he was dripping water all over the rugs. He paused and his blue eyes widened momentarily - he had obviously not expected to find Chantal awake and in the room. He shot a brief, surprised look at the activities of Celestine and Andy, cooking over the fire, before his expression became closed and non-committal once more. He bent and unbuckled the gun-belt he was wearing, depositing it casually on the peg inside the door. Then he disappeared quickly through the other door, which presumably led to the main sleeping accommodation. No sooner had the door shut rather decisively behind him than Chantal allowed herself a small smirk of satisfaction.

A request came through the closed door: "Andy, can y' get me a towel, please?" Andy hastily jumped to his feet and went into the kitchen to find, if he could, a fresh towel. He took it into the bunk-room and the girls could hear only muffled undertones of what sounded like a less than amicable conversation.

In fact, Andy was greeted with: "And what the devil has been happenin' to my shirts?"

"You said to get one," Andy explained, "and I was lookin' for the smallest."

This elicited an annoyed grunt from Jess, who was rummaging through his meagre supply of clothes in search of shirt and trousers which were reasonably free from dust, rents and creases. Andy watched him for a moment, then said "You did tell me to do it."

"Yeah – but I was thinkin' of one of yours!"

"I haven't got any left."

At this, Jess was forced to grin and admit: "Guess the laundry is the next thing on the list, then!"

Andy was relieved that he seemed not to mind Chantal having one of his shirts and said cheerfully "Supper's nearly ready."

"Good – I could eat boiled boot-leather right now. And those girls must be starvin'!"

Returning to the living room, they found the table laid and the remnant of their supplies utilised to form a good meal. The centre-piece of this was a magnificent omelette, which had apparently been cooked by Celestine, using all the eggs Andy had painstakingly collected in the early morning which now seemed so long ago. Added to this, two Frenchwomen were able to do things with home-grown vegetables which created a savoury stew beyond the capability of any mere males. With fresh bread, cheese and fruit, it was more than enough to satisfy even the appetites of four ravenous young people.

When they had eaten, Jess smiled at Celestine and complimented, "C'était excellente. Tu es un bon cuisinier, ma petite!" Celestine promptly left her chair and climbed onto his knee, giving him another hug and snuggling down in his arms as if prepared to stay there for the rest of the evening. Chantal decided that it was time she stopped being an invalid and helped with the clearing up, but Andy jumped up as soon as she moved, saying "Clearing's one of my chores, Miss Chantal – you rest some more."

Jess reinforced this by jerking his head towards the couch and saying brusquely: "Sit!" Chantal started to reply "I'm not a dog …" but thought the better of it when she saw the inevitable riposte to this statement about to rise to his lips. So she returned to the couch and her contemplation of the fire, while Jess moved to the rocking chair, where he could rock Celestine, who was becoming increasingly sleepy. They sat in a rather wary silence until Andy returned, bearing a laden tray with a copious supply of coffee, enough to keep Jess in a reasonably peaceable mood, provided he was not further provoked.

Presently Jess raised an eyebrow in Chantal's direction which suggested it was time to get the sleeping child to bed. She got up and opened the door of the little bedroom and he carried Celestine carefully in and laid her gently in the nearest bed. Chantal was about to try to remove the borrowed clothing, but Jess shook his head and she realised that he was right – sleep was more important than what you were wearing. She covered her sister gently with the blankets instead.

They closed the door quietly and Jess unexpectedly put a hand on Chantal's arm, steering her firmly back towards the couch. She stiffened, about to resist any attempt to interfere or dictate what she would do, but he just looked at her sardonically, one eyebrow quirked in mockery of her bravado. "Estáte quieto! Are you goin' to stay still?" he growled, "Or do I have to hold you down until you do?"

She found herself returning to the couch hastily, trying not to admit, even to herself, that she was exhausted and thankful to be resting some more. Before she could object, firm hands pushed her irresistibly back against the back rest and her feet were lifted so she was lying comfortably in the warm firelight. Seeing she was settled and not likely to attempt any vigorous exercise, Jess moved away to light some of the oil lamps, then said "I'm goin' to do the night-check, Andy." He buckled on his gun once more and went swiftly and silently out into the yard.

Andy quietly picked up a book from the desk and curled up on the hearth-rug. Chantal sighed and closed her eyes. It was good to feel safe and secure - she had not expected to feel so at home in a place about which she knew so little. Peace filled the lamp-lit room and the only movement was the flickering of the fire-lit shadows on the wall and the occasional turning of a page of Andy's book.

Suddenly, Andy sat up, alerted by an unexpected sound from outside. It was the thunder of hooves galloping rapidly up the road. The riders would be at the relay station all too soon. Andy moved at once to the gun rack, ready to grab a rifle.

The door burst open and Jess hurled into the room. Without any explanation, he raced across to the couch and bent to pick up Chantal once more. She, surprised by this sudden violent action, started up abruptly. The result was a resounding crack as her cheek connected with a very hard head. Thoroughly dazed, she found herself swept up and carried across the room in the direction of the bedroom, as Jess yelled "Andy, get this door open!"

At that moment, the front door slammed against the wall and the room seemed to fill up with two very large, obviously drunken men. They were grinning broadly and roared with laughter at the scene before them.

"Hey, Jess! You meant to keep that reward for yourself but you ain't succeedin'!"

"Yeah – and you ain't takin' the prettiest one for yourself neither!"

Since Chantal was obviously a female of considerable attractions and Jess was equally obviously carrying her into the bedroom, some misinterpretation of the circumstances by the Pattersons was almost inevitable. Their intentions were pretty obvious too.

"Guess we're gonna have to teach you the proper way of sharin'!"

"Yeah, let us in on the action!"

For a fraction of a second, Chantal felt Jess's whole body tense, like a spring being coiled down with tightly controlled power. Then, almost immediately, he deliberately relaxed, set her gently down in the doorway and turned to stand between her and the invading men. Chantal realized suddenly that he was a head shorter than his opponents and his lean frame, hard-muscled as it was, made him considerably lighter in weight too. This was, however, certainly not a factor that Jess himself took into consideration.

"You'll do nothing without walkin' through me first!" He sounded bored rather than angry, but Andy, who knew him well, could see the slight movement of his thumbs, opening and closing against his hands.

"That ain't goin' to be difficult!" Stan Patterson had drunk enough to forget the various saloon brawls in which he had seen Jess in action. He launched himself across the room and met with a swift upper-cut to the diaphragm for his pains. He fell to his knees, doubled up and gasping for air.

"Don't make me do this, Tom!" Jess warned the other man. "Take your brother out of here and get on home while you can still ride."

The response was another almighty leap across the room. The air seemed to be full of flying arms, legs and bodies, as Jess side-stepped, grabbed the man's arm and used the force of his own attack to throw him neatly to one side. Tom crashed into the bookshelves and was momentarily stunned by the descent of a number of heavy volumes onto his unprotected head. Meanwhile, Stan had taken advantage of his position on the floor to grab Jess round the knees.

Neither Chantal nor Andy had ever been at close quarters to a fight, still less a fight in such confined surroundings. The speed and violence was breathtaking and every time each of them thought they saw an opening to help Jess, the fight had moved rapidly on before they could take the action they had decided on. Consequently, they were both more of a hindrance than a help. Realising this, Andy decided the only thing to do was to pile in and attack whichever brother Jess had most recently floored. His first attempt at this was not too successful, as Stan's back-swing, preparatory to delivering a wild hay-maker, caught Andy in the face and sent him flying across the room to crash into the desk. Paper flew in every direction. Andy was surprised and mortified to find how much he was hurting. Chantal raced to his side and helped him up, then looked around for something more substantial than her own hands to contribute to the conflict. A log of firewood dealt several astute blows before it was kicked out of her hand.

At this point, the uproar woke Celestine, who appeared with a wail of terror in the bedroom doorway. Jess grabbed Chantal round the waist and swung her across the room to land her next to the little girl. "Look after your sister – and damn well stay out from under my feet!"

His momentary inattention allowed Stan to grab him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides and dragging him round so that Tom could use him as a punch-bag. This simply caused Jess to lose his temper and cease to exercise any restraint. He kicked out viciously, catching Tom on the shin with a crunch which sounded as if boot had definitely triumphed over bone. In almost the same movement, his head snapped back and hit Stan in the face with a crack that made Chantal put a reminiscent hand to her own cheek. Stan howled with pain and dropped Jess. Andy, who had sensibly armed himself with the butt-end of a rifle, ceased to hover on the edge of the melee and moved in to strike Stan smartly at the top of the spine with excellent results. Jess gave him a grin of appreciation and turned his attention to Tom, who was still hopping about trying to get out of the way of whatever punishment Jess had lined up for him next.

"Are you still bent on makin' me sort you out, Tom Patterson?" Jess grabbed the man by his collar and forced him to his knees. Even kneeling, Tom nearly made two of Jess, but there was no way he could use his superior weight and height to advantage, as he had found out to his cost. Steely fingers were tightening at his throat and it was all he could do to gasp out a strangled yelp: "No! Lemme go, Jess! I ain't gonna touch no-one!"

Jess let him drop into a heap on the floor and stood over him, rather like a small irate black bull about to gore a large, but particularly fool-hardy, matador. He said contemptuously, "I warned you this morning – and I'm not in the habit of goin' back on my word! Now you git out of here, straight back to Laramie and tell Sheriff Corey that the girls are safe and their Pa can collect them from here tomorrow. D'you understand?"

Tom nodded, wiping away the blood which was trickling from a split lip with the back of his sleeve.

"Get up!" Jess picked him up by the collar again, dumped him on his feet and gave him a shove in the direction of the still open front door. Then he grabbed Stan by his ankles and dragged him out onto the porch. "Now get your brother over that horse and thank your lucky stars either of you is still capable of ridin'!"

Andy and Chantal heard the sounds of some heavy lifting, after which the horses moved off and, as their hoof-beats receded, Jess shouted "And don't forget to give my message to the Sheriff!" The sounds settled into silence and Jess came back in. He was seriously dishevelled: the tidy clothes he had donned for the meal were ripped in several places and covered with dust, which had had a catastrophic effect on what had been a clean shirt. His already unruly hair was standing on end and a smear of blood decorated his cheek, but there was a broad grin of satisfaction on his face. He looked at Andy and held out his hand, offering the congratulations of one man to another. They shook silently. Then Andy flung his arms round Jess and got the familiar bear-hug in return.

Jess looked over his head to the two girls. Celestine had stopped sobbing and was sleepily nestling in Chantal's arms. Jess nodded in a gesture that indicated "Put her back to bed" and Chantal, only too relieved the fight had ended in their favour, carried her into the little bedroom and knelt beside her bed until she was sleeping peacefully once more. Andy was looking around at the mess created by the fight and trying to summon the energy to begin clearing it up. Jess shook his head and said gently, "You too. Bed and sleep now. There's nothing that won't keep until morning." Andy was only too ready to agree.

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 **Translations:**

C'était excellente. Tu es un bon cuisinier, ma petite – That was excellent. You are a good cook, little one.


	7. Chapter 7

**Night – Day 4**

When everyone had finally settled down, Jess strolled out onto the porch, thinking regretfully of Jonesy's medicinal whiskey, but reckoning that, with all the additional responsibility he now had, this was out of the question. Instead, he thankfully rolled himself a cigarette. His anger had been more than a little relieved by a good fight and the total quiet of the night enveloped him like a comforting blanket. He sat down on the steps, leaned back against the wall, tilted his head and began counting the stars. He always found this a very soothing occupation when things were bothering him.

He'd smoked half the cigarette when the door opened very quietly behind him. His free hand went automatically to the knife in his boot, because his gun was hanging up inside, but he made no other movement, just went on quietly smoking. The smell of comfrey oil reassured him this reaction was unnecessary. There was a creak from rail as the girl leaned against it.

"Celestine settled down? Asleep?" The husky voice was gentler and softer than any time it had addressed her that day.

"Oui. She is sleeping."

"So why aren't you?" The edge had returned, but muted perhaps by the need not to disturb the children.

"I needed –"

"More oil for your sunburn, by the smell of it." His voice was lazy, sardonic, as if it amused him to score over her.

"Perhaps. But I used it more for … protection."

His face turned towards her, so that she could no longer see the lean profile, just the gleam of the moonlight in his eyes. The rest was in shadow. "No soy un peligro a ti. You don't need protection from me."

"No," she agreed demurely. "I was thinking of the other way round."

There was complete silence. Then he gave a chuckle and looked out across the open sky again. The huge radiance of the heavens wrapped round them both. Chantal let her gaze travel slowly across the stars and murmured, "Si magnifique! So many!"

"I've counted two hundred and thirty five so far."

"And there are so many more," she responded softly. "I will count and help you. Where shall I begin?"

"Do you know your constellations?" When she nodded, he said: "El torro, the bull?"

She laughed delightedly and pointed. "Yes – it is there, low in the east – et aussi je pense - I have seen it in action!"

"Start there and work towards me."

After a prolonged interval, during which he rolled, lit and smoked a second cigarette, Jess said: "Perhaps you'd like to tell me exactly what you thought you were doin' ridin' out like that this morning?" He sounded as if he had an absolute right to her answer.

Chantal tossed back the curtain of silver-gold hair which she had allowed momentarily to hide her face and her reactions. "I have never been in country like this – it is so big, so open." She stretched her arms wide, embracing the landscape, and heard him draw in a sharp breath. "I wanted to see the dawn from the mountain – on my own, but Celestine followed me."

"You didn't take her back." The tone was cold, stern.

"Trop tard. It was too late."

"¿Demasiado tarde para cuidar?" She could feel the anger again, radiating off him. "Too late for takin' care of the little one?"

The hair hid her face once more and she did not answer. He demanded "And then?"

"We had dismounted on the bluff above the canyon. We were going to return when something spooked Falcon, my pony. Un serpent, peut-etre. I stepped back, trying to control him. And then – " She stumbled, her words faltering painfully. "Je sui tombe. Me cai! You understand? I fell, I was falling –"

She was shuddering violently, reliving the horror of the cliff-face sliding in front of her, the sickening jolt as she landed on the ledge, the paralysing realization that there was no way back. There was a swift, silent movement and at once she felt, as she had felt on the ride back, strong arms holding her securely, someone more solid than any rock, to whom she could and did cling. Close against her cheek, the husky voice demanded softly "And then?"

"And then you came."

Presently he released her and said just as softly "Estás sano y salvo. Sleep now." He steered her gently towards the door. "And tonight – stay where you're put, dawn or no dawn!"

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 **Translations:**

Je sui tombe. Me cai! – I fell. I fell.

Esta sano y salvo – you are safe and sound.


	8. Chapter 8

**Early Morning – Day 5**

Dawning realization of the gravity of the situation drove all thoughts of tidying up and completing the list from Jess and Andy's minds. Deprived of their alibi for this failure and deeply worried at the further danger the two sisters might be falling into right now, they were faced with the same dilemma again. It had the horrible finality of a repeating nightmare. Once more they were going to have to leave the relay station unattended and try to track the runaways before anything else happened, even though Slim and Jonesy would arrive during their absence. Worse still, they had no idea how long the girls had been gone or where on earth they could be headed. Patch had disappeared too, but the pony's tracks were now so numerous from his journeys up and down the mountain that they were not much help, even to Jess.

Before they could formulate a plan, however, they heard in the distance the thunder and rattle which was a prelude to the arrival of an in-bound stage from Cheyenne. This was not a scheduled run, so it must be an extra aimed at getting horses and stages to locations where they were needed. None the less, there would probably be passengers including, if Jess and Andy's run of bad luck continued, one shortly-to-be-exasperated boss and elder brother.

"Hell!" Jess exclaimed, once again forgetting the injunction not to swear in front of Andy. He tore across the yard, dragging off yesterday's bedraggled shirt, which he had absent-mindedly put back on in the alarm at dawn, doused himself under the pump and pounded into the bunk-room in search of a tidier one. This only showed up the abysmal state his pants were in and he was still hopping from foot to foot, struggling to get into a clean pair when he could hear Mose yelling at the horses to steady as they came down the final slope.

"Andy! You got that coffee on?"

"Yeah, but I don't think Jonesy will be any too pleased with our cleaning!"

"That's the least of our problems!" Jess told him, adding with much feeling, "Jonesy ain't six foot three and aimin' to give me a beating!"

"It isn't –" Andy got no further with his protest as Jess cut in "No, it ain't fair, but that's the way life is. Now, do me a favour, will you, Tiger, and just stay on the porch while I change the team?"

"Don't you need any help?"

"Yeah, I need help to keep Slim off my back as long as possible, so I can get after those kids, and the best way to do it is if he don't see you too soon! There is such a thing as puttin' off the evil hour – and that's what we're doin'." He thundered out of the house into the yard.

Andy remained in the doorway and saw the stage draw to an impressive halt from a full gallop, only inches from Jess, who was, as usual, daring Mose to run him over. Mose was clearly feeling his oats today and yelled out: "One day I'm gonna run right over your toes, Harper!"

Jess grinned, but headed towards the barn and the replacement team before anyone could alight from the coach. There were only two passengers and they were familiar figures. Slim leapt out and shook a fist at Mose. "I had no idea how hair-raising it is when you two play that game of yours!" he complained in mock anger. Jonesy groaned as he alighted stiffly: "Ain't done my back a power of good, either!"

"Come on – let's hope they've got some coffee on." Slim steered him towards the house.

"With Jess Harper on the premises? C'n you doubt it?" Jonesy said sarcastically. "I bet coffee is the only thing worth consumin' in the whole place!" In this he was, of course, almost entirely right.

Slim was somewhat surprised that Andy had not come to greet the stage, but figured maybe some days on his own had led him to assert his independence even more than usual. He frowned. Even from a distance, he could see there was something wrong with Andy's face. As Slim strode towards the house, his brother turned and went back inside, leaving the door open. Jonesy hurried to catch up with him and they both entered the living room together. One look at Andy's guilty face was enough.

"What's up, Andy?" Jonesy demanded by right of seniority. He caught hold of the boy by his shoulder, which elicited a grimace of pain. He was in no doubt that Andy needed some care and attention. Gently he pushed up the sleeve of Andy's shirt to reveal some interestingly coloured bruises. "Let me see!" he demanded, and when Andy was about to refuse, added: "I bin doctorin' you since you were no bigger'n a flea, Andy, so let me look!" Andy reluctantly undid some of his shirt buttons.

Slim came slowly across the room, taking in the bruises to the body, the scratched face and the black eye. A fearsome scowl transformed his normally good-natured features, and he demanded, much as Andy had expected: "What have you been doing?"

"What d'you mean?" Andy's voice was a little shaky, but he was determined to stall Slim for as long as possible. Maybe Jess would have the sense to hide or ride away or something? In his heart, he knew Jess would do nothing of the kind, but it helped to feel that together they were putting off the moment of impending retribution.

"You know perfect well what I mean!" Slim stood over Andy, his expression so forbidding it was hard to realise that it sprang from a deep love and concern for his little brother.

"We did most of the stuff on the list, Slim – honest!"

Slim picked up the discarded list from the table and ran his eye down it. He looked around at the scarcely tidied living room, the fishing tackle, the bedrolls, the rope coil, not to mention a hand-gun lying on the table. "And I suppose you spent the rest of the time climbing, shooting and fishing and anything else you two could think of to get into this mess?" he diagnosed. Then he demanded in tones of cold and righteous anger, "Where is he?"

"Slim, it ain't Jess's fault!" Andy protested.

"You're not taking the blame for him this time, Andy!" Slim snapped. "Jonesy, look after Andy, will you? It seems I can't trust the man I left in charge!" Flinging off his best coat and rolling up his sleeves as he went, he stormed off to the barn, narrowly avoiding the departing stage as he did so. As he strode across the yard, he spotted the remains of the fire under the oak tree, the evidence of target practice on the wall alongside the barn and the notice still tacked to the door. The list was getting longer!

Meanwhile, Jonesy looked at Andy and said mildly, "You want to tell me what this is all about, Andy?"

"Just as long as you ain't blamin' Jess!" Andy retorted.

"Well, he obviously had somethin' to do with it," Jonesy pointed out, still mildly. "Now just what the heck has been goin' on?"

Andy took a deep breath and told him.

.

XXXXX

.

In the barn, Jess was saddling his horse.

"Oh no you don't!" Slim grabbed him by the shirt, which promptly and characteristically ripped. Jess groaned. He was rapidly running out of wearable shirts. He did not have much time to dwell on this, however, as a furious Slim dragged him bodily out of the stall and proceeded to slam him against the partition. "You're not running away from your responsibilities this time!"

"I ain't runnin'! That's not my style."

"Neither is looking after Andy, it appears!" Slim ground his teeth in rage. "I thought I could trust you!"

"You can do the lookin' after now you're back. I've got other things to attend to – urgent things!"

This was the last straw, causing Slim to deliver a rapid punch to the jaw which rocked Jess on his heels and to follow it up with a fusillade to the body which caused him to double over. As he hit out, Slim punctuated each blow with the things he ought to have told Jess not to do. It was a while before he realized he was meeting no resistance. Jess just slowly pulled himself upright and took a step aside. "I'm not fightin' you."

"Why not?" Slim demanded disbelievingly. Given Jess's short fuse in any situation involving the least invitation to fisticuffs, it was totally unlike him not to rise to the challenge of proving he was capable of decking Slim.

"Well, for one thing, you're still wearin' your best shirt. I'd hate to mess it up!" was the ironic response, as Jess inspected the damage to his own. The blow provoked by this caught him square on the side of the face. "Besides, I told you – I've got something urgent to attend to!" The word 'urgent' was accompanied by a lightning grab, which caught Slim's descending arm and used the momentum to pull him off balance. In an instant the beating had descended into a scuffle on the floor, with each of them struggling to gain the upper hand.

At that moment, there was a clatter of hooves in the doorway, a shrill child's sob, a female-sounding gasp of horror and a cry of outrage from Andy, accompanied by Jonesy's voice yelling "Now ease off, Slim! Let be! You don't know what's goin' on!"

What appeared to Slim to be going on was the eruption of a multi-armed, many-legged bundle of chaos. Several people rushed across the barn and descended on the combatants. Andy grabbed Slim's arm and endeavoured, totally unsuccessfully given their relative height, weight and years, to pull him off Jess. Jess himself fought his way to his feet and was promptly seized round the leg by a very small blonde whirlwind. Jonesy hastily put himself between the two men, but was pushed out of the way by a rather taller and older blonde who moved equally swiftly between them. She put one hand on Jess's shoulder and the other to his bruised face, demanding angrily: "Pourquoi est-il un combat? Why is he hitting you?"

How did he manage it? Slim demanded silently to himself. No sooner had Jess got a black eye that he richly deserved than he had some female fluttering round him, all attention!

Jess, however, put the blonde girl firmly aside and bent to detach the small child who was still clinging to his leg. He picked her up and stroked her hair gently, making soothing noises, as she flung her arms round his neck in a stranglehold worthy of Andy. Andy himself patted the little girl's back, saying "It's all right, Celestine – don't be afraid, it's all right."

"But you threw those men out - les ivrognes!" the older blonde exclaimed. "What does this one want?"

"He's my boss," Jess told her, "and the only thing he wants is a well-run relay station!" This was a blow below the belt, as he knew perfectly well how superficial an accusation it was, but he was aching quite badly around the belt himself and in no mood to be generous.

"You know he doesn't know the full story!" Jonesy interrupted crossly.

"I don't recall him askin'!" Jess replied flatly. He was still rocking the little girl soothingly when the older one looked swiftly round the barn and said "Your horse is saddled, you were coming to –"

"It ain't urgent now," Jess responded with a forbidding scowl, "but you might tell me what the hell you think you were doin' sneakin' out at dawn again?" His voice dropped to a savage growl, repeating in French just in case she was in any doubt: "À lèver du soleil? Tu as quitte?"

She stared back at him in evident amazement. "Les chevals. I went to find Falcon with my sister's pony." She pointed to the two mounts abandoned in the doorway. "Falcon est fidèle – faithful. I knew he would come and join Patch if I called."

"And you took her with you? La petite? En danger!" Jess was glaring now and the others saw his arms tighten around the child. He switched abruptly to Spanish. "Tú es un tonto total. Pensé mejor de ti!"

The girl scowled back at him and asserted: "Yo puedo cuidar de ella."

"Like you did yesterday?" If Jess had not been holding the younger sister, it looked as if he would have administered a good shaking or something more drastic to the elder. They seemed completely oblivious of their audience.

Slim coughed and said "Maybe we should all go inside?"

"An' get some coffee inside us," Jonesy suggested practically, hoping this might ease Jess's mood. He was still regarding the older girl with an expression which was difficult to read. After a moment she raised her eyes and looked at him appealingly. She held out her arms and he lifted Celestine into them. "Merci. Thank you, Jess." And then in Spanish, "Yo sé que tu cuidaron de nos."

"De nada." He turned his back on her and said, "Andy, find those ponies a stall, will y'? It's about time everyone stayed where they've been put!" And with that, he stalked out of the barn.

Slim made an involuntary move to follow him, but Jonesy put a hand on his arm and advised him wisely: "I don't think it's you he's mad at."

"But he's got enough reason!" Slim admitted with his usual honesty, massaging his knuckles ruefully.

"He was expecting you to kill him." Andy unintentionally rubbed salt into the wounds. "He said he was responsible."

"You are no help – you make him angrier!" The older girl unexpectedly turned on Slim. She put Celestine down and, without so much as an introduction, jabbed him in the stomach with an accusing finger. "Don't interfere!"

Slim found himself looking down into an amazing pair of jade eyes set in a face whose determination was well matched by the set of her jaw and the strong line of her lips, which seemed to contradict the delicacy of her features. Like Jess, he had been misled by her lack of inches and slender build – he too discovered abruptly this was no girl-child, but a young woman and a very beautiful one at that.

Chantal turned to her sister: "Faut nous dépêcher!" Andy took the little girl's other hand as they hastily followed Jess out of the barn. Slim and Jonesy exchanged glances and Slim said plaintively, "I suppose sooner or later someone is going to tell me what on earth is going on?"

"It's a long story," Jonesy assured him, "an' it can wait till after the coffee."

This was not to be. No sooner had they all got into the yard than a sound of rapidly approaching hooves was heard from the Laramie road. A speeding buggy was bearing down on them, hotly pursued by a mounted man who looked remarkably like Mort Corey, the Laramie sheriff.

"Oh no!" Slim groaned. "What else have you two done?"

.

* * *

 **.**

 **Translations:**

Tu es un tonto total. Pensé mejor de ti! – You are a complete idiot. I thought better of you.

Yo puedo cuidar de ella – I can take care of her.

Faut nous dépêcher – we need to hurry


	9. Chapter 9

**Mid-Morning – Day 5**

From the point of view of the new arrivals, the scene in the yard was something of a relief. Armand Picard was frantic about his two daughters and at least he could see they were on their feet and presumably therefore unharmed. Mort was just relieved that he and the man he was escorting had arrived safely at the end of a mad dash from Laramie. This had been occasioned by the belated arrival at his office of the Patterson twins, who had drowned the sorrows of their beating the night before in a further drinking session and only turned up the next morning. The fact that Armand Picard appeared to be a demon driver also influenced the speed of their journey.

Since he knew the relay station and its inhabitants well, however, Mort picked up immediately that Jess was in a rage about something, Slim was hardly his usual genial self either and even the normally unflappable Jonesy looked worried. Added to all this, there was the strange appearance of the trio of young people, who were linked hand in hand …

As he pulled his galloping team to a spectacular halt, Armand took in more details. His daughters were unexpectedly clad in outsize shirts, presumably belonging to the boy who was holding Celestine's hand. All three of them appeared to have a strange and inexplicable green tinge to their skin and the boy had a black eye into the bargain. His eldest daughter looked both guilty and defiant, which was only to be expected knowing her feisty temper, but he sensed something deeper underlying this. His shrewd glance scanned the rest of the group, taking in the gnarled figure of an older man, clearly an aged retainer from his old-fashioned appearance, and next to him a tall, blonde young man, whose authoritative stance struck a chord instantly with him as a father. Slightly separated from them, he was faced with a younger man, dark, lean, with the look of a mountain lion about to pounce. This man was looking at Chantal with an expression Picard père recognised only too well - but not the one common to most love-struck young men who made his daughter's acquaintance. On the contrary, it was an expression that Armand entirely sympathised with – he looked as if, were it not for the diktats of manners and convention, he would like to take a strap to her. It would be interesting, Chantal's father reflected, to see how this worked itself out. Both the young men looked distinctly dishevelled. The blonde one had obviously been quite well dressed to start with, but the other, in working clothes, had a sizeable rent in the shoulder of his shirt and bruising along his cheek-bone which would certainly develop into black eye. They were both covered with dust and straw. Armand hoped they had not been fighting, or if they had, that it was not over Chantal. Somehow, looking at the younger of the two, he doubted if this was the case.

Mort, having pulled up alongside him, began to offer introductions, but the dark-haired one interrupted him brusquely, saying "I hope you're not thinkin' of arrestin' me for kidnapping, Mort?"

Chantal sprang forward with a cry of "Enlèvement – non!" She turned to her father and burst into a rapid and voluble torrent of French which left everyone somewhat baffled. Even Armand was finding it difficult to follow her, as her delivery was an incoherent mixture of anger and excitement and he was also dumbfounded to see that she too had clearly hit her right eye rather hard.

"Hold your tongue!" The younger man took two rapid strides, seized her by the shoulders and gave her a determined shaking, adding for good measure, "Silencio! No es importante." Accustomed as Armand was, in his own household, to switching frequently between different languages, he was considerably surprised to find anyone in this part of the country berating his daughter in Spanish.

At this point, Celestine decided to join in. Shaking off Andy's comforting hand, she ran over to the young man and forced him to pick her up by the simple expedient of climbing up him as if he were a tree. From her elevated perch on his shoulder, she shrilled "Papa, Jess est gentil, il nous avait sauvé!" and burst into tears. Armand saw the young man's expression soften instantly, his remarkably blue eyes twinkling with amusement and affection, as he gave the little girl a comforting hug.

"I think you'd better have Celestine back, sir," he said courteously, lifting her up to join her father on the buggy. "I'm sorry we had to lend her these clothes, but the ones she set out in didn't survive the adventure." The word 'adventure' was accompanied by a meaningful look at Chantal.

Putting his arm round his youngest daughter and producing a handkerchief to dry her tears, Armand said thankfully and in impeccable English, "We are most deeply grateful to you for what was clearly a very opportune rescue. I am Armand Picard and I am very much in your debt. I think you have earned a great reward." He held out his free hand and found it grasped extremely firmly.

"Jess Harper, sir – and there is no debt and no need for a reward. Andy and I just happened to run into your daughters when they were lost and offered them some shelter for the night." Chantal made an involuntary movement at this, but when her father looked at her enquiringly, she looked away and said nothing. The boy, who was obviously 'Andy', looked as if he were bursting to amplify this concise account, but he too held his tongue. Armand was impressed by this man's forceful ability to control the flow of information without actually issuing any orders. O well, he would probably understand the whole story in the fullness of time.

Jess turned to the boy and reminded him, "Coffee, Andy? I hope you didn't leave it boilin'?"

Andy gave a yelp of dismay, but the old man said sharply, "I took it off. D'you think I can't run my own kitchen, even with the mess you two left it in?"

This was clearly a bone of contention, as the blonde man and Mort both leapt into the breach with introductions all round. Armand was encouraged to descend from the buggy and Celestine, who had clearly taken a shine to Andy as well as to Jess, linked her hand with his and her father's, and steered them both firmly towards the ranch-house. Everyone was moving in the same direction, Chantal taking care to keep close to her father and a good arm's length from Jess, whose expression had changed once more from amused to seriously forbidding.

In the very limited amount of time available to him, Jonesy had worked a miracle of order on the living room and to a certain extent on his beloved kitchen. The table had of course already been laid ready earlier by Andy and Jess. Armand and Mort were invited to sit down with Slim as their host. Celestine climbed onto her father's knee. Jess disappeared into the bunk-room in search of yet another shirt and, after returning with slightly less dust and straw about his person, leant against the mantelpiece, still looking like lightning about to strike.

Andy meekly joined Jonesy into the kitchen and, to both their surprise, Chantal followed them. She bent to the floor and began to pick up some small objects. Andy coloured up again, especially when he saw Jonesy eyeing the pearl buttons in amazement. "Did you lose them things, miss?" the old cook asked in puzzled tones.

Chantal raised her face, eyelashes fluttering above those amazing clear pools of eyes, and said demurely, "I just had a slight accident."

"In my kitchen?" Jonesy looked at the shirt she was wearing. He'd darned it enough times to know perfectly well it was Jess's and was clearly reviewing what he thought had gone on in his absence.

Andy said hastily "They're waitin' for breakfast, Jonesy. The young ladies ain't eaten anythin' yet."

"They haven't eaten anything yet," Slim corrected from the doorway. Then he smiled at Chantal and said "Please come and sit down, Miss Picard. You are our guest. You don't need to do any work."

Chantal wondered briefly whether Jess would have agreed with him. She had a distinct impression that, despite putting her in her place so firmly, he was a young man who would have definite views on the uselessness of ornamental females. She contented herself with another dazzling gaze and the appropriate employment of the eyelashes. Slim instantly forgot all about the jab in the stomach and was charmed.

Hot coffee did much to restore the equilibrium of the party. Jonesy managed to rustle up an ample breakfast for the girls. Everyone else joined in, so he was kept busy between the stove and the table. When they had eaten, they all went back onto the porch, seeking the cooler air. It was some time later, therefore, that Jess, who had been more than usually uncommunicative during the meal, fixed Armand with his most uncompromising look and began: "Monsieur Picard –"

"Armand, please! I feel somehow you have played an important part in my family."

"In that case, sir, the favour I'm askin' may sound less disrespectful." He regarded Chantal thoughtfully for a moment, clearly considering his words. "Your daughter's wantin' independence and to go her own way. If you will allow me to escort her back to Laramie by the way she came, I'll teach her how to keep safe in this country and to find her way home. Then she won't get lost again. It shouldn't take more'n an hour or two."

Armand looked at his daughter to see how she was taking this proposal. It certainly wasn't the kind she was used to. She was staring somewhat defiantly at a point on the horizon. Andy, misconstruing his silence, said eagerly "Jess is the best scout in the territory. What he can't teach you about trail-finding ain't worth knowing."

"Isn't, Andy," Slim corrected automatically.

"If it's Jess, it's ain't," Andy responded loyally.

Armand had been watching them all closely and noted the nods of confirmation from the other three men, endorsing Andy's recommendation. He also sensed, within this little family, a deep well of trust and affection which included Jess, even though he did not seem to be related to anyone. As a final check, he looked at Mort, of whose experience and judgement Armand had already formed a high opinion. The sheriff gave him the slightest of nods and an almost imperceptible wink, which Jess fortunately didn't notice.

"I am obliged to you once again," Armand told Jess, "for thinking about my peace of mind."

Actually it didn't look at all as if Jess was considering any kind of peace. He looked more like someone preparing to hog-tie a particularly unruly heifer. He moved with a swiftness which took everyone by surprise, reached inside the door, grabbed his own hat from the pegs and neatly tossed one of Andy's discards onto the shining head of his reluctant pupil.

"You can start with some proper head-gear!" he ordered peremptorily. "Now get to the barn and fetch that pony." He shepherded Chantal off the porch and across the yard before she could choose any alternative course of action.

"Tu es cruel! He has been out all night," they heard her protesting.

"It won't hurt him, he's tougher than you think."

"He's not the only one!" Armand remarked in amusement as they disappeared into the barn. He also noted in this exchange – the first time he had heard Chantal speak directly to Jess – the choice of personal pronoun.

Slim Sherman, who was clearly a stickler for convention, said apologetically, "Mr Picard, I can't think what's got into Jess. He's normally the soul of courtesy to women!" The grins from Mort Corey and Jonesy seemed to confirm this statement.

Armand smiled at him. "Your acquaintance with my eldest daughter is relatively brief, is it not, Mr Sherman?"

"Slim, please - and yes, I only met her about half an hour ago."

"I think you may find that your friend has had quite severe provocation."

As both Traveller and Falcon were already saddled, teacher and uncooperative pupil reappeared in a couple of minutes. Whatever had gone on between them in the barn, the atmosphere was crackling with conflict. Chantal was berating Jess in the choicest terms she could think of in both French and Spanish. He appeared to ignore these completely until she showed signs of refusing to mount up, at which point he said, in tones approaching a snarl, "Poco tonto, estar tranquilo y escúchame!"

"¿Por qué?" she demanded.

"Because if you're goin' to take damn-fool rides to look at the view first thing in the mornin', you're goin' to learn how to do it without losin' yourself, endangerin' your little sister and wastin' everyone else's time! Now, get on that pony – or do I have to put you on him!"

This threat was effective. Chantal jumped into the saddle and clapped her heels into Falcon, who sprang away at a surprised canter. She had not, however, reckoned with the speed of Jess's reactions as he hopped onto Traveller and pelted after her. The horse, sensing his rider's urgency, overtook the pony in no time. Jess grabbed Falcon's reins and slowed both mounts to a more reasonable pace. The watchers on the porch could hear the altercation in mixed French, Spanish and English receding into the distance until they were out of sight around the first bend in the road.

Andy took in the dumbfounded expressions of the adults and said with a grin, "That's nothing. You should have heard him last night."

"I'm glad I didn't," Slim said fervently, "but what's the matter with him this morning?"

Andy grinned: "Well, I had to wake him up real early …"

"Rather you than me!" his elder brother exclaimed. "But it's mid-morning now – what's still eating him?"

Andy gave him another cheeky grin. "Oh, now you're back to take over the chores, Jess and me had planned to go fishing – providin', of course, we didn't get killed first!"

.

* * *

 **.**

 **Translations:**

Poco tonto, estar tranquilo y escúchame – little idiot, be quiet and listen to me

"¿Por qué? – Why?


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilogue**

Traveller and Falcon halted, shoulder to shoulder, at the summit of the mountain which had begun the ill-fated adventure of the Picard sisters. Chantal had no idea how long it had taken them to get there and neither worried nor cared. She pulled off the loaned hat, which, she had to admit, had kept her so much cooler, slid from the saddle and lifted her face to the refreshing breeze. Jess followed her example and hooked his hat over the saddle-horn. Then he jumped down, stretched like a cat and ran both hands through his hair, which served to make him look as if he'd been in another fight. But a tranquil and not totally unexpected silence enveloped them as they stood together on the edge of the plateau.

Although the ride had started off as a fine sparring match, Chantal soon discovered that Jess was absolutely serious when he said he intended to teach her how to stay safe in this wild country. She also discovered, like Andy, that he was a skillful and thorough teacher in his own areas of expertise. He did not lecture, but was at pains to show her, quietly and clearly, the small details and signs which she had previously ignored when out riding, including those of several larger animals it would be better to avoid, as well as how to recognise the landmarks of her back-trail in order to get home safely. Chantal felt as if she were really experiencing the landscape for the first time and the realisation of her own foolhardy actions was not long in overcoming her. She was too intelligent not to see how her impetuous imagination had led her and her sister into real danger and that the seriousness with which Jess treated this, especially as it involved the care of a little one, explained the extent of his anger. It was only a short step from this to the realisation anger arises from fear, and fear from care and a desire to protect.

The justice of this anger and the worth of the care made her able to swallow her pride and say as they rode upwards: "Je fait erreur. I was wrong. I should apologise."

"Apologise to your father – he was afraid for you. Other people were put to a lot trouble too."

"And you were not?"

"De nada. But I don't have time to run round rescuin' you every day, so pay attention now!"

As they had ascended higher up the mountain, they had become gradually almost silent, Jess just occasionally indicating dangers on the trail and what to do about them. Now, standing at the top, Chantal was breath-taken by the amazing view and the majestic sweep of this untamed country. She gazed and gazed, finally saying again, almost under her breath, "So big! So open!"

Her companion looked down at her and smiled, a smile which totally transformed his face in a way she had not seen before. He looked happy, relaxed and also pleased, as if she had touched a feeling that was very special to him. "It is. País libre y grande!"

"When I was at home, in the east," she told him, "always I wanted wider country, more space, bigger horizons. I should like to get to know this place better."

His reply was unexpected. "If you do, you need Slim Sherman to show you – he knows more about this particular country and loves it better than anyone I know."

"Vraiment?" She considered this suggestion and then summarily rejected it. "Never! He hit you!" She reached up and touched the bruise on his cheekbone. "I'm sorry! It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't! He'd have done it anyway, for neglectin' Andy."

"Untrue! You did not!" She repeated what she had said in the barn: "Yo sé que tu nos cuidaron! All of us!"

"Includin' doin' this?" His finger gently outlined the bruise round her own eye. "Vraiment? Not forgettin' wet blankets, rationin' the water, smelly ointment and your shirt?" When she did not answer, he added mischievously: "And take care I don't claim mine back real soon – I'm runnin' out!"

He was laughing at her! Chantal once more swung round abruptly towards him and only his quick reflexes enabled him to catch the braid of hair before it slapped him across the face again. He grinned wickedly and twisted the end round his hand, giving it a none-too-gentle tug as he did so. "This is fast becomin' a lethal weapon, woman! Why don't you leave it loose? You look much prettier that way."

Chantal watched, mesmerised, as his lean fingers began purposefully to unravel the twisted stands. "Always provided, of course," he added with another wicked grin, "you ain't covered in green war-paint!"

"Why you -!" She struggled, even with a choice of three languages, to find insults she had not already used. The glint in Jess's eyes suggested that he was perfectly well aware of her frustration. His fingers continued their self-appointed task.

"There," he said after a few minutes, regarding his handiwork with amused satisfaction. "Now, even sportin' a black eye, you're real beautiful!" Her loosened hair was drifting up on the breeze, but he was in possession of a good handful in either hand. He pulled again, very gently.

Presently he released her and said: "Esta sano y salvo. But if you want to stay that way, don't go ridin' around without an escort, at least not until I've taught you to handle a rifle."

"Perhaps I will ask Mr Sherman?"

"If that's what you want." His expression was absolutely imperturbable. Chantal was almost goaded into hitting him again. Was he always going to be so good at concealing his feelings? But then he gave her a side-long glance and his lips twitched in a crooked half-smile which made him suddenly look unexpectedly vulnerable and so appealing. "Is it? ¿Es eso lo que quieres?"

Chantal's exasperation melted away and something much deeper made itself felt as she allowed the truth to rise to her lips. "Prefiero estar con tu que nadie," she told him, adding shyly, "¿Si no es mucha molestia?"

"De nada! Quando tu quieras."

"We never did finish counting those stars …" she reminded him softly.

"Whenever you want to," he repeated. And there was another long silence. Then he added firmly, as he picked her up and dumped her unceremoniously back into Falcon's saddle: "But on one condition only - that you can guide us safely back home right now!"

"¿Por qué?" she demanded.

Jess hopped onto Traveller and looked down at her with a rueful grin: " 'Cause it'll be my ghost seein' stars if I don't get the jobs on a certain list finished by sundown!"

 **.**

* * *

 **.**

 **Translations:**

País libre y grande – a big, free country

Vraiment - really

Es eso lo que quieres – is that what you want?

Prefiero estar con tu que nadie - I'd rather be with you than anyone else

Si no es mucha molestia – if it is not too much trouble

Quando tu quieras – whenever you like

"¿Por qué? – Why?

.

 **Notes:**

Acknowledgement: For all chapters: The great creative writing of the 'Laramie' series is respectfully acknowledged. My stories are purely for pleasure and are inspired by the talents of the original authors, producers and actors.

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Reading order for the stories relating to Jess's encounters with Chantal:

 _A List and Three Black Eyes_

 _The Company of Strangers_

 _Bearing Gifts_

 _The Morning After_

 **Comfrey and Honey poultice:**

I've taken slight liberties with how to make the Comfrey oil (or sludge!), as Jess and Andy obviously don't have a blender, but here is the recipe, should you wish to try it at home:

½ u wheatgerm oil

½ cup clear honey

Comfrey leaves

Whizz honey and oil together in blender until emulsified, then add enough comfrey leaves to make a thick paste. Blend until smooth. Pot and store in refrigerator.

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 **The Bull:**

Technically, I've stretched a point with the constellation of Taurus, as it isn't really visible until October and this story is taking place at the tail-end of summer – but hey! if the star fits, wear it!

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 **Geography:**

For the purposes of this story, it is assumed that the relay station in located south of Laramie, on the Laramie-Cheyenne road (in the series it appears to me to move about rather, and stages seem to come in from contradictory directions over different episodes - but that may just be a big country confusing someone who lives in a small one!)


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